Harry Potter and the Forest of Shadows
by RheaLee
Summary: A Sixth Year fic; my sequel to OotP. (I don't own any of JKR's characters; you know the drill). Chapter 11 complete.
1. Chapter One

Vernon and Petunia Dursley had no idea what to do with their nephew. The other residents of Little Whinging thought this was because Harry Potter attended St. Brutus's, a school for incurably criminal boys, but - according to the Dursleys and their son Dudley - the truth was much, much worse.  
  
Harry was a wizard who spent most of the year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where he was going to be attending his sixth year. This not being bad enough, he had been singled out by the Dark Lord Voldemort - "You Know Who" or "He Who Must Not Be Named" in most wizarding circles - and thus was more dangerous than basically any other person on the planet. The Dursleys were already a bit apprehensive of Harry knowing magic: whenever they caught a glimpse of the wand shoved in the waistband of his jeans they were liable to shut up, turn pale, and possibly leave the room.  
  
It really didn't bother Harry all that much. Well, the fact that he was a wizard and bore a lightening-shaped scar on his forehead made him jumpier than usual, always listening for the swish of a cloak or fearing the moment when his scar would again sear with pain. Whet didn't bother him all that much was the fact that the Dursleys were ignoring him. It was easier to deal with them that way.  
  
Harry sighed, collapsed back in the large armchair in front of the television, and shoved his glasses up on his nose. One more day, he told himself grimly. Just one more day . . .  
  
He was sick of the Dursleys, sick of them alternating between ignoring him and treating him as they did Dudley, trying to figure out which would anger him less. Aunt Petunia's worst fear was that the members of the Order of the Phoenix that had stood by Harry at his return home would come strolling up the walk of number four, Privet Drive, and the neighbors - just as nosy as she was - would have plenty of gossip to round out the summer. Harry, on the other hand, would like nothing better than seeing Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, the Weasleys, and Hermione Granger again. At least they knew Sirius had existed.  
  
His stomach had stopped clenching every time he thought of his godfather and had started disappearing, leaving a heavy emptiness inside him. Far worse, in his opinion, were the times when he realized with a start that he had not thought of Sirius for hours, concentrating on the news or reading the Daily Prophet thoroughly cover-to-cover.  
  
Nothing had happened. With glazed eyes Harry blearily half-watched an infomercial on some new exercise equipment, not even bothering to read the scrolling marquee on the bottom of the screen as it was giving weather and sports scores. Whee. Maybe Voldemort was causing the torrential rains that were following last year's drought and causing the lawns along Privet Drive and Magnolia Crescent to spring to life with renewed fervor and their owners to chance it outside between showers with the lawnmowers. Uncle Vernon was usually the one to do it as Dudley had been the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast for the second year in a row and could be rather intimidating when he wanted to be.  
  
Hedwig zoomed in lazily through a nearby open window, a letter clutched in her beak. Half-melted in the heat and currently apathetic, Harry reached out a hand to take the roll of parchment before his owl settles on the back of the chair. Not bothering to look at the address on the outside - it would be for him, of course, but he might have recognized the handwriting - Harry slit it open.  
  
Harry -  
  
I trust your summer is going as well as can be expected and regret that I have not written sooner, as I have been rather busy. I am searching for both a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and a replacement for Madam Pompfrey as she has been asked to join the elite team of Healers at St. Mungo's, but I did not write to bore you with such details. With the recent events of our Minister coming to his senses, he has again been seeking my council quite frequently and, I can only assume, will continue to do so throughout the year ahead, and I will give it gladly. Sadly, this means that my plans of teaching you Occlumency have been rather jeopardized. Still, I have added to my list of people to search for an accomplished Occlumens other than myself or Professor Snape and will inform you as soon as I have found one.  
  
Stay out of trouble.  
  
Albus Dumbledore  
  
Harry blinked slowly, rereading the letter twice more and feeling a slight tingle in his scar, something that was easy to ignore. It had not occurred to him that he would have to continue learning Occlumency, not since the dreams of long unlit corridors and locked doors had abated. Still, if he had to learn it, he would rather be taught by Dumbledore. The memory of his last would-be lesson with Snape caused his stomach to come back and clench . . .  
  
Aunt Petunia came into the room with a duster and began going over all the little knickknacks on the end table and carefully cleaning the myriad pictures of Dudley, carefully ignoring her nephew, who was ignoring her right back. Finally Petunia could stand it no longer. She cleared her throat. "Is that from one of your - er - friends?" she asked, not exactly looking at him.  
  
He nodded once.  
  
"The - er - one with the pink hair?" She was trying hard not to wrinkle her nose at the member of the Order that was probably the most Dursley-ish, but that was not saying much.  
  
"The headmaster at school," he said glumly, heaving himself out of the chair. Hedwig took wing, hooting hopefully, clearly wanting Harry to go to his room and give her a few Owl Treats. "About - about lessons."  
  
"I thought you already got something about lessons," Aunt Petunia said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
He tried to not glow with pride. "Yeah, I did." He had gotten a rather fantastic eight OWLs, considering the only one in which he had not achieved at least an Acceptable was Divination. He'd even managed a good enough Potions grade to advance to NEWT level, something he would not normally celebrate except for the fact that to become an Auror - a Dark Wizard hunter - he needed NEWT level Potions. History of Magic was a barely scraped Acceptable, but Defense Against the Dark Arts had secured him top marks, an Outstanding, and the fact that he could finally drop Divination almost made up for continuing in Potions. Hermione, of course, had achieved nothing less than Exceeds Expectations on every single one of her OWLs, earning a Percy-type twelve. Ron had five, missing out on History of Magic, Divination, and Astronomy, but he, too, would be suffering through Potions another year.  
  
"Well?" aunt Petunia snapped.  
  
Harry blinked, realizing he had been quiet for a bit. "It's a special lesson, because of Voldemort."  
  
Despite being one of the biggest Muggles - non-magical people - on the planet, Petunia had the decency to pale at the mention of the wizard who had killed her sister and brother-in-law, landing her with Harry in the first place. "I see." Her voice was light. "Why?"  
  
"Because he wants to destroy me" seemed a bit melodramatic, but that was the general idea. Harry sighed, tucking the letter in his pocket and sitting back down on the edge of the chair. "Before I was born there was a prophecy made regarding him and me."  
  
"That's why he killed her, then?"  
  
A muscle in his cheek twitched. "Yes, that's why he killed my mum. And why he's tried to kill me four times already." He had escaped, something, Dumbledore had pointed out, that was more than his parent's had ever done, having only been able to defy Voldemort three times. "It's for protection."  
  
"Like your staying here." Her back was to him again. "But you're leaving tomorrow. Those - people - are coming for you?"  
  
"Yeah. They're my full guard." He laughed hollowly, standing up once more and making as if to leave, but Dudley burst into the room, followed closely by his father.  
  
Aunt Petunia was the first to find her voice. "What is it, Duddykins?"  
  
Harry, who had been blinking rather owlishly at his cousin, immediately turned to the news, scanning the scrolling words for death, disappearance, torture . . .  
  
It was Uncle Vernon who found his voice first. "The river's on fire."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Aunt Petunia sputtered something that might have been a laugh. "What in heaven's name are you talking about?"  
  
But the infomercial had been interrupted with a news bulletin and Uncle Vernon leaned down to turn up the volume. ". . . baffling scientists. The last time the Thames burned it was much more polluted than it has been allowed to become in recent news. Here's Jim Sanor with the story."  
  
The view switched to a man looking rather flustered and wind-blown. "Thanks, Erik. As you can see behind me" - he gestured with a hand full of papers, clearly trying not to curse as some of them flew out of his hand - "the Thames is burning for a course at least a kilometer long. Now, we have no news about how the blaze was started, but authorities are here to assure us that they will soon have it under control."  
  
The scene changed back to Erik in the news room. "Thank you, Jim. We will follow up on this report, as well as any other news, at seven." Harry and the Dursleys found themselves staring at "Before" and "After" pictures from a woman who had supposedly lost twenty-five kilos using an amazing new machine, stupid music blaring from the speakers. Uncle Vernon reached down and switched the set off.  
  
Aunt Petunia was the first to speak, having to clear her throat a couple times in order to do so. "So that's - that's him, then, is it?"  
  
Harry shook his head slightly. Voldemort had waited a year for his first attack and it was this? Setting fire to the Thames? It didn't even amount to anything resembling panic, just a quick little news spot and a "tune in at seven." He was expecting something else, something more along the lines of mass deaths, clear destruction, something with little or no chance of escaping. Then again, nagged a small voice in the back of his head, how often does he do what you expect?  
  
"Well, is it?" Uncle Vernon barked, stroking his walrus-like mustache as if he were wondering whether to get worked up enough to start tearing chunks out of it. "With more dementoids?"  
  
Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to think as it twinged again. He was annoyed, not overly so, but they emotion was still there . . . "Something went wrong," he said slowly, hollowly, in the detached voice his mouth used when he was not planning on the words. "It was supposed to be worse, an explosion, but someone went and messed it up . . . a distraction in London while they escapes Azkaban . . ."  
  
"The Dementors have escaped Azkaban?" Petunia whispered, peering around her husband and son, craning her rather long neck so as to get a view up and down Privet Drive.  
  
"Well, sort of; they're out of Ministry control, anyway. And you can't see them," Harry continued as his aunt's search grew a bit more frantic. "Muggles can't see them. You just feel them."  
  
Dudley sucked in a quick breath, growing rather pale and nervously running a hand through his hair. The year previous he had had the . . . pleasure . . . of doing just that, and it was obvious the memory had not faded. "D'you see any, Harry?" he asked, almost succeeding in keeping his voice steady.  
  
"No." Harry shook his head, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "This wasn't about the Dementors, he had them already. It was the Death Eaters." He blinked, realizing the others were looking at him strangely. "His followers. I kind of helped in sending some of them to Azkaban a couple months ago. There was supposed to be something in London, something bigger, but something went wrong and now . . . the river's on fire," he finished lamely.  
  
"Voldy-whatsis made a mistake? I didn't think your kind made mistakes. He certainly didn't when he . . . ah . . ." Feeling it safer, Uncle Vernon stopped talking and began smoothing his mustache, looking for all the world as though it was what he had meant to do all along.  
  
Harry, quite certain how that statement was going to end, had a hard time keeping his hand away from his wand. "The Death Eaters made a mistake," he said slowly, trying not to sound as though he were speaking to a small child. "But he's not as mad as he would have been if the others hadn't managed to escape Azkaban. He's still building his army."  
  
Aunt Petunia was about to ask another question when they doorbell rang, causing her head to whip around quickly. Harry only had time to see her eyes widen before she was practically sprinting toward the door. She could be heard, in a false, cheery voice, welcoming whoever it was that was standing there and ushering them inside the house, a move that became clear when Harry found Tonks, Mad-Eye, and Lupin being ushered into the sitting room.  
  
"It was a mistake," Harry said, rubbing his forehead again as it gave another small tingle. "It wasn't supposed to be quite so -"  
  
"Benign?" Tonks finished, raising an eyebrow. It disappeared up into her bangs, violently curly and very blonde today. "Yeah, we suspected that . . ."  
  
"You know what else happened?" Lupin asked in his familiar, hoarse voice, looking at Harry seriously out of a prematurely lined face.  
  
"Yeah, the Death Eaters -"  
  
"A simple 'yes' will suffice, Potter," Moody barked, looking at Harry with his normal eye, the other, electric blue one whirling madly, no doubt making sure the neighbors were sufficiently back to plotting their lawn- mowing to do so when it was driest. "We're here to take you. We might need that scar of yours, come what may. Go and get your things."  
  
Tonks tipped an invisible hat to the Dursleys as she passed them, following Harry up the stairs, both of them taking them two at a time. "Wotcher, Harry," she said, rather cheerily, considering the situation. "Glad to get out of here?"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry, not so enthusiastic as the sight of Tonks had reminded him of a room in the Department of Mysteries, one with many stone benches and a raised stone dais with an archway, from which hung a curtain that flittered in its own breeze . . .  
  
"Harry? Yoo-hoo, Harry?" She actually reached out to knock on his head. "You're packed, grab that end of the trunk, would you?" Tonks had done her little packing spell, not neat, but effective, and she had Hedwig's cage in one hand, a handle of his trunk in the other. "You all right?" she asked in an undertone as they started down the stairs, the trunk hitting him uncomfortably in the backs of his legs as they maneuvered down the stairs.  
  
"Better now," he said, glad his back was to her so he did not have to fake a smile. At least at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, he might be able to keep busy enough that the memories it held would not have time to wrap themselves around him. Briefly he though of the faint scars on Ron's arms and Madam Pompfrey saying that thoughts could leave deeper scars than anything else . . . He shook his head to clear it as they returned to the living room.  
  
Moody was snapping a pocket watch shut. "Thank you for keeping him alive," he said gruffly, the tone more because he was not sure how the Dursleys would react than the fact that he was moved by their kindness. "You'll see him as usual when term ends. Come here," he said, this time to Harry and Tonks. He pulled out his wand. "Stand back." In a trice the trunk and cage had shrunk to miniatures small enough to fit in his pocket, and that was exactly where he put them. "Easier to travel on the Underground this way," he explained.  
  
"You know where to go," Lupin said softly to Hedwig. She looked at him with large eyes, blinked once, gave a small hoot, and took off.  
  
"Go on," Moody said rather impatiently.  
  
Harry was puzzled. "What'm I -?"  
  
His question was cut off by Tonks, who placed herself in front of Aunt Petunia. "If you'd just hold still," she said conversationally, wiping her hands on her long skirt. For the first time Harry noticed the strange was she was dressed, blouse and all, and it rather confused him a moment. "There we go." Tonks looked Harry's aunt up and down before screwing up her face in a painful sort of way and she began to change.  
  
The Dursleys watched in horror, Harry with a kind of morbid glee as Tonks began to change and become an exact copy of Aunt Petunia, explaining her chosen ensemble. "Is that right?" she asked a couple minutes later, turning this way and that so they could see.  
  
Harry cleared his throat. "You, uh - you still have your voice."  
  
She waved that away. "Takes too long to change that, too. I just won't talk."  
  
"Promise?" Lupin asked quickly, grinning at her.  
  
"No time," Moody said swiftly. "You two wait a couple minutes after Remus goes; I'll be following. Tonks knows where to get off." He nodded toward the twin Aunt Petunias, one looking a bit faint, the other grinning in a completely un-Petunia like way. "You won't see the others."  
  
"Dung nicked us a few good Invisibility Cloaks," the disguised Tonks said happily. "But we'll talk about that later," she added hurriedly as Moody gave her a glare with both eyes.  
  
Lupin winked at Harry before he turned to go. A moment later the door opened and closed as he strolled down the street.  
  
Harry turned to his aunt, uncle and cousin. "Er . . . I'll see you next summer, than."  
  
The real Aunt Petunia nodded numbly. Uncle Vernon ran a finger over his mustache. "We treated you well," he said, eyes darting to Moody, who was once again securing a bowler had over his crazy eye.  
  
"Your turn," Moody said, electric blue eye swiveling to the face of his closed watch. "Go on."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Well . . . bye."  
  
It was the best exits from number four, Privet Drive with what remained of his family in attendance: no shouting, no running, and the door wasn't even slammed on his heels.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The welcome Harry received when he arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, far outshone the farewell from number four, Privet Drive, but that that was to be expected. "Harry, it's so good to see you!" Hermione said, enthusiastically hugging him around the neck and almost smothering him with her bushy hair.  
  
"Just wish the situation was different, huh, mate?" Ron Weasley asked, grinning at his best friend when Hermione released Harry.  
  
"Could be worse. We could've changed the headquarters to my house." But Harry was grinning when he said it.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just wait till you hear why we still have it. It'll make your eyes spin in opposite directions, honestly."  
  
"Ah, we have time for that later," Tonks said, looking rather like something was painfully crawling around the inside of her skull as she reverted back to looking like herself, only this time her hair was her preferred short, bubblegum pink, and rather spiky. "First, y'see, I have to change . . . and then Remus hasn't seen the Prophet yet today, there's an article that'll interest him . . ." She disappeared up the stairs.  
  
"Harry, dear, I thought that was you," Mrs. Weasley said, coming up the stairs from the basement kitchen and wiping her hands on her apron.  
  
"Should be, if Moody's his usual self," Lupin said, following her and looking a bit irked. "Tonks stole the paper before we left," he explained to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Been taunting me with it all day, that one . . ."  
  
Far from telling him to grow up, Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes indulgently as she gave Harry what amounted to a rather floury hug. "It won't kill you to wait."  
  
"Exactly," Fred said, bounding down the stairs and followed closely by his twin brother George, each of them wearing the acid green dragon skin jackets that proved the success of their joke shop.  
  
"We had to wait an entire year to join the Order," George added.  
  
"Weren't exactly sympathetic to us last summer, were you?"  
  
"I'd say not."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes, turning his back on them so they wouldn't overhear. "Not like they're telling us anything," he whispered to Harry. "Say they're sworn to secrecy and all that."  
  
"Well, they probably are, Ron," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "And it's not right to see if you can pry anything out of them, it might be dangerous."  
  
"Well, at least the Order's growing," Harry said quickly to stop the argument before they could build up steam. "I mean, since Voldemort's building up his ranks -"  
  
"Oh, Ron, grow up!" Hermione said irritably as he had jumped at the Dark Lord's name yet again.  
  
"- then we should be building up ours," Harry finished before Ron could reply. "Right?"  
  
"Oh, and they have!" Hermione said, looking as though she were talking about SPEW again. "They don't all come to all the meetings - can't, really, if they want to keep it secret - but there've been so many new witches and wizards, Dumbledore's talking about expanding internationally and recruiting from other countries, maybe some from Durmstrang and other places -"  
  
"She's hoping we get Krum," Ron muttered under his breath, but, thankfully, Hermione either did not hear or chose to ignore him.  
  
"She's right," Lupin said, though he looked rather glum as he did. "He's actually looking for a Dark Arts professor from one of the other schools, as well, to promote unity."  
  
Harry bit his lip, wondering if his old professor's lack of excitement came from the fact that he had once held the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship and wanted it back. His clothes were ragged and worn thin, not all that worse from the previous summer, but unemployment was not being kind to the man who could not get a job because he was also a werewolf. Thankfully they were saved a response by Tonks appearing at the top of the stairs, holding a newspaper clipping in one hand, the other over her heart as she cleared her throat, clearly preparing to give a speech.  
  
"'School Healer Gives Hope to Vampires,'" she began. "That's the headline, by the way."  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione shared looks that asked what this had to do with anything, but Lupin was definitely listening. "Go on, then."  
  
"The resident Healer at Durmstrang, known to the students as Madam Amy, has finally brought to a conclusion years of long research. 'It took longer than I thought, I'll admit,' she said last Thursday in an interview, 'but the fact that I actually made it still kind of shocks me.' Madam Amy has, in short, provided the world with three different guarantees that they will not become unwilling prey for vampires.  
  
"'I know some vampires use voluntary donors, having worked with them in the past, but that still leaves too many who try to satisfy their cravings with blood-flavored items and then reach a point where they can't stand it anymore.' Thus, Madam Amy has created three ways for a vampire to get his fill without actually biting a neck.  
  
"'The first is a pill they have to take once a week, if that's what they decide,' she explained. 'Then a patch that needs to be changed once every two weeks, or a shot that is once monthly. The cost is all about the same, it just depends on personal preference.' When asked why she decided to work on what many have considered to be the Vampire Problem for centuries, she laughed and said, 'It sounded easier than a substitute for the Wolfsbane Potion that would prevent any transformation of a werewolf at all.' Will she attempt this next? 'We'll see,' she allowed; 'just give me another ten years.'"  
  
Tonks came down the stairs then, handing the scrap to Lupin. "There you go. Try not to drool too much."  
  
"Har, har," he said, but he inspected the picture closely before handing it back to Tonks. "Take Harry up and try to explain her, then; I still need to pack." He grinned at them before leaving, practically running Moody over as the Auror was coming in.  
  
"I'm guessing he's going to pack?" Mad-Eye said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Lupin's retreating figure.  
  
"Right in one," Tonks said cheerfully. "Come on, it's easier by the tapestry."  
  
"Tapestry?" Harry began to follow her up the stairs, Ron and Hermione tagging along behind. The only tapestry he knew of was the Black family tree, and that was where she led them.  
  
"Right, this is my aunt, or at least the only one I'll admit to," said Tonks, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the tapestry and handing over the Prophet clipping. "Actually, her name's Adele Mavis Yvonne" - she wrinkled her nose - "but, unlike some of us with horrid first names, she can shorten that to Amy and be done with it."  
  
Harry held the picture so his friends could see it, as well. A rather young- looking witch was grinning at them, though, upon looking at the caption, it said she was thirty-six. Still, Amy could have passed for twenty-five, considering her young face. Her hair was pulled back, just as dark as her eyes, and her nose looked as though it had been broken and not properly healed with magic, creating a rather cute effect. "But she's not on there," Harry said, pointing to where Tonks's mother had been blasted off for marrying a Muggle and the two sisters flanking her, Narcissa Black Malfoy and Bellatrix Black Lestrange.  
  
"You two ready to hear this again?" Tonks asked, showing a dimple as she grinned at Ron and Hermione. "Right, so - Amy's real parents - full blood, of course - said they already had one brat, why keep another, and gave her up for adoption." Tonks took the picture back and held it up over the names of her aunts. "She was adopted into the Black family as the youngest sister, quite a lot younger, actually; Mum's twins with Bellatrix and they're eight years older."  
  
Harry's mouth twitched at that. Bellatrix Lestrange was responsible for killing her cousin, Sirius, and the thought that Tonks's mum might have the same heavy-lidded eyes and facial features was unsettling.  
  
"They're not identical," Tonks continued as though reading his thoughts. "But, anyway . . . when Aunt Amy was eight, my grandparents were killed in an accident. Trying to work out some horrid curse on their own or something, got themselves really bad. Still, Mum and the other two were old enough to be on their own, but my aunt was adopted again" - Tonks moved the picture - "and she became the sister of Sirius and Regulus."  
  
"Sirius never mentioned a sister." Harry said it quickly so the name would not have to longer long on his tongue, painfully working its way down to a knot in his chest.  
  
"Nah, she had a different way of going about things. Anyway, he was twelve then, already in Gryffindor, and Regulus was ten, ready to start at Hogwarts. He was Slytherin and Sirius wanted Amy to have an easier time, so he told her she should fake being Dark minded to their parents. She didn't have much say in this, but she was asked to join Durmstrang, which made it a bit easier. Anyway, she grew up pretending to be a Dark Witch to the family and a good on to the public. Told me how she'd explained it to Bellatrix once, something like, if Bellatrix was caught, she'd need someone respectable to defend her. Amy had dozens of those excuses."  
  
"But she's really good." Harry looked from the picture to Tonks's face.  
  
She looked almost sad, almost wistful. "She's amazing. Actually, she -"  
  
"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs.  
  
"Hey, c'mon, Harry," Ron said, eagerly getting to his feet and tugging at Harry's arm. "I'm starving!"  
  
Harry followed him out of the room, past an exasperated Hermione, wondering what Tonks was going to say Amy actually was, but those thoughts disappeared when he was faced with a table creaking under mountains of food and surrounded by people he had yearned for all summer. Smiling, Harry took his seat and began to tuck in.  
  
* * * * *  
  
After dinner, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny got together in the room the boys shared, Harry and Ron on Ron's bed, Hermione perched at the foot of Harry's, and Ginny on the floor, trailing a string for Crookshanks. "What happened to Kreacher?" Harry asked suddenly. "I mean, I guess you got the house because of Amy -"  
  
"Yeah, it's hers now," Hermione said, "and she wrote right after . . . right afterwards to tell Dumbledore that we could still use it."  
  
"But, to actually answer your question," Ginny said, "he's gone. To either the Lestranges or the Malfoys, we're not sure, but he's definitely gone."  
  
"You should hear Sirius's mum wail about it," Ron moaned, collapsing back against the wall and appearing to slam his head painfully, but he didn't show it. "When she wakes up . . . there's no shuttering her up, honestly!"  
  
"At least Tonks didn't knock over the umbrella stand when she came up here," Ginny pointed out. "That would've been horrid."  
  
"Yeah . . . hey, what was with that Daily Prophet article, anyway?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn. It was warm in the room and he was stuffed to the brim with more types of food than he could count.  
  
Ginny and Hermione shared a look. "Well, what do you think?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Well, come on, if Tonks's aunt actually figures out a way to stop him from turning into a wolf once a month, that'll be like he was never bitten at all, right?" Ron said eagerly. "Then that thingy that stupid Umbridge -  
  
"Ron!" Ginny and Hermione had spoken together, covering up any further description of the woman.  
  
"- wrote won't have any effect on him." He shared a grin with Harry, who had nonetheless caught every word.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, muttering something about teaspoons, but it was Ginny who spoke up. "Well, it's not like we know or anything, considering the fact that seen Fred and George won't say."  
  
"Yeah, you've noticed they're not here," Ron said, clearly irked, though whether it was at his brothers or at not catching Hermione's meaning, Harry couldn't tell. "They're always avoiding us, doing something for their joke shop or whatever."  
  
"So you don't keep bugging them," Hermione said, definitely loud enough for him to hear. "You think they like not being able to tell you?"  
  
"Yes," said Ginny and Ron quickly.  
  
Hermione frowned. "Well, maybe, but at least they're not waving it in your faces, are they?"  
  
Ron grinned. "Not like Tonks was with that Prophet this morning. Man, Harry, you should've seen it . . . her prancing all about the kitchen and Lupin trying to snag it without knocking nay of us out of chairs or spilling eggs in our laps . . ."  
  
Ginny giggled. "It was a sight to see. Definitely funny . . . anyway, we actually think -  
  
"Bed! All of you! Haven't you even looked at the time?" Mrs. Weasley was in the doorway, hands on her hips. "Hermione and Ginny, shoo! You can catch up on all the news tomorrow!" With a meaningful look at Harry and her youngest son, she closed the door after them, clearly expecting lights to be out in a trice.  
  
Harry and Ron rummaged around in the trunks and changed quickly into their pajamas, sliding between the cool summer sheets. "What d'you think they were going to say?" Ron asked as the candles extinguished themselves.  
  
Harry shrugged, yawning hugely. The blank portrait frame on the wall gave a small snigger of laughter, but his eyes were closed and Snape was chasing after him, holding a rather lethal-looking syringe. "It's your shot, Potter," the Potions professor said gleefully. "For anyone who receives a Niffler bite . . ." There was a Niffler right in front of him, looking all cute and cuddly, but then it was rearing up on its hind legs and baring horrific teeth. Harry tripped over it and went flying, then falling, landing hard on the ground far below. He had barely gotten to his feet, starting to look around his shadowy surroundings when someone poked him in the side. "Get up," Ron said rather crossly. "You won't believe it, the attic's infested, Mum got attacked by more Doxys when she went up . . ."  
  
Harry blinked, pulling himself out of bed, scrambling into his clothes and bolting down breakfast. "I've done the Doxys," Mrs. Weasley said, coming down as he finished his last bite of cereal, "but there's practically a whole half of the attic untouched, it's like last summer all over again . . ."  
  
He quickly swallowed, reaching for a glass of water to wash his mouthful down past the lump that had formed in his throat. Last summer, except Sirius was no long with them. Thankfully an interruption came from above when Lupin clattered down to the main floor as they were heading up. "Have you seen this?" he demanded. For a moment Harry, Hermione, and the two youngest Weasleys had no idea who he was talking to as the open front door was in the way, but it closed quickly enough to reveal Snape.  
  
The professor picked the roll of parchment from Lupin's fingers, reading it quickly. "Dumbledore obviously thinks it best if you leave today."  
  
"Today?" Lupin grabbed the letter back. "Severus, I've been planning this for -"  
  
"Weeks. Yes, I know. Pity. Some of the best-laid plans . . ." Snape gave him a smile that he usually saved for Harry. Say, after he'd just told him that he would be receiving no grade that day.  
  
Mrs. Weasley, who had been following them up the stairs, frowned and held out her hand for the parchment, reading it with a crease between her eyebrows. "My, that doesn't give you any time, does it?"  
  
"No. And it's not like I can get reimbursed for setting up a Portkey, not this late." Lupin sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "Great, just great."  
  
"It's not like anyone knew you were coming," Mrs. Weasley said almost hopefully, as if she was not sure whether or not this would make him angrier. "No one will be disappointed."  
  
"Yeah, except me," the former Dark Arts professor sighed, taking the letter back and stowing it in a pocket.  
  
"Well," Snape said, the smile still on his lips, "if you are unable to use the Portkey, that does not mean it should be wasted."  
  
To everyone's surprise - especially Snape's and even Mrs. Weasley's, considering she seemed to know everything else that was going on - Lupin frowned a moment before nodding. "All right, Severus." He pulled a button out of his pocket and held it out for the other man to take. "Tomorrow, nine thirty-two in the morning. Guess I'd better be going, then."  
  
An unknown emotion flitted across Snape's face and he grabbed Lupin's shoulder before the other man could open the door to leave, reaching into a pocket with the hand that held the button. Harry glanced at Ron, both of them clearly thinking Snape could be going for his wand, but when his hand came out it had exchanged the button for a Galleon. "Here."  
  
Lupin hesitated for a moment, then took it, nodding good-bye to the others before he left, not looking at Snape. The professor shrugged, hand back in his pocket as he ran his fingers over the button. "Well, then. That solves my problem."  
  
"I'll tell Dumbledore," Mrs. Weasley said quietly.  
  
Snape almost - Harry blinked - smiled. "Do that." Then he, too, turned and left.  
  
Mrs. Weasley spent a moment deep in thought before she seemed to realize with a start that the rest of them were standing there, staring at her, questioning. "Well, off to the attic with you!" she said, shooing them ahead of her on the stairs. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all shared looks. They had a bit to discuss, later, without anyone else listening in.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The moment the door to their room was closed, Ron and Harry turned to Hermione and Ginny. "Well?"  
  
Hermione shrugged, completely at a loss. "Professor Lupin was going to go somewhere and got some orders for something else, I guess."  
  
"And then let Snape take his place," Ron finished off. "What in the world would interest both of them that much?"  
  
"A Dark Arts position?" Ginny suggested. "That's all I can think of for common interest."  
  
Harry frowned. "But no one knew Professor Lupin was going to be coming, and that kind of defeats the purpose of a job interview, doesn't it?"  
  
Ron cast a scalding glance at the ceiling. "Bet Fred and George know. I mean, if Mum knew what they were talking about . . ."  
  
But Hermione was not done thinking. "It sounded like they were talking about surprising someone," she said slowly, tapping her chin.  
  
"Since when have Snape and Professor Lupin had mutual friends?" Ron snorted. "Seriously, a werewolf and a former Death Eater? Where's the common ground?"  
  
"They both went to Hogwarts?" Ginny suggested in a voice that said she knew that wasn't saying much. "They were in the same year . . . maybe it's someone they went to school with or something."  
  
"Someone joining the Order." Hermione had sat straight up, eyes sparkling. "Like Harry said, if Voldemort's building up his ranks - come on, Ron! - then we should be, too."  
  
For a moment Harry was satisfied with this, but then he thought of something else. "Professor Lupin said he's been planning this for weeks and he just got an order for the . . . er . . . Order. Dumbledore wouldn't do something like that without telling someone else to take over the recruiting, would he?"  
  
Hermione looked as if he had just told her the answers to all her exams. "Ugh. Probably not, no. But maybe he's all caught up with things and it . . . slipped his mind or something. I mean, they worked it out, didn't they?"  
  
"Yeah, the first time ever those two've worked anything out." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "If Professor Lupin were still here, we could've asked him."  
  
"And he'd tell us?" Ginny's voice was doubtful. "You know there's a whole lot of stuff they aren't telling us because we're too young or too inexperienced or whatever."  
  
Harry winced. He remembered arguing with Ginny only a few short months before, saying she was too young, too inexperienced to accompany him on Sirius's rescue mission. The wince turned into something darker as memories of that night flitted past: the last time he had seen his godfather, the fact that Harry thought it was all his fault, the things Dumbledore had told him. . . .  
  
Ron waved a hand in front of his face. "Harry? Are you all right?"  
  
He started. "Yeah - yeah, I'm fine." He flattened his hair, hoping he sounded convincing. No one else knew about the prophecy - they all thought it had been smashed, and Harry had not yet figured out exactly how to tell them otherwise. "Hey, guys, I'm either going to murder Voldemort or be murdered by him - isn't that wonderful?" just didn't seem to be the right way to word it.  
  
The others exchanged glances, trying to figure out whether or not to drag it out of him, but they mutely decided to move on. "What about Tonks?" Hermione asked suddenly.  
  
"What about her?" Ron returned.  
  
"Well, d'you think she would know?"  
  
"D'you think she would tell us?"  
  
"Well . . . I mean, she's younger, more like us, after all . . . I just thought maybe . . ." She trailed off. "OK, fine then. You think of something."  
  
Silence hung in the air for approximately thirteen and a half seconds, interrupted by the appearance of a man in the blank portrait on the wall. He was yawning, daintily covering his mouth with a silk gloved hand and grooming his pointed goatee to perfection. Harry's lip curled. "Phineas Nigellus."  
  
"Harry Potter." Sirius's great-great-grandfather, a former Headmaster of Hogwarts, looked utterly bored, as if this were below him. "And a rather interesting display of . . . friends."  
  
Harry's jaw clenched, which at least had the benefit of keeping the sneer away. "Did you come here to insult us or did you have another purpose in mind?"  
  
"Hmm, as impolite as ever . . . very well, Potter: a message from Dumbledore. He has found you a teacher." Raising an eyebrow, Phineas stepped sideways out of the frame and disappeared.  
  
Ron cleared his throat. "Umm . . . what was that about?"  
  
"Oh, he's a former Headmaster, Sirius's great-great-grandfather, a Slytherin, utterly annoying, and a rather poor messenger." Rather poor, as in he delivered exactly the information he was told and failed to question for more.  
  
Hermione frowned. "What does he mean, Dumbledore has found you a teacher?"  
  
"Occlumency, must be," Harry said, pondering, eyes glazed over as he gazed unseeingly at a spot on the worn rug. "Because Fudge's going to be going to Dumbledore for help now that he's finally come to his senses and he's not going to be able to teach me regularly." Hermione was still frowning. "What?"  
  
"Well, it's just that . . . I've been doing some research, you know, and as for Occlumency . . . that's a trait that usually runs strong within family groups, and . . ." She spread her hands, willing them to finish the sentence.  
  
"And you think maybe Snape has an evil twin or something," Harry finished flatly.  
  
Ginny looked a bit wary. "But couldn't it be someone related to Dumbledore, like a son or grandson or something?"  
  
Ron perked up. "Hey, that'd work! What d'you think, Harry?"  
  
"He thinks it's time for all of you to be in bed," Mrs. Weasley said, pushing to door open as she did so. "Honestly, the four of you . . . you'd think you hadn't spoken in years."  
  
Smiling, the friends bid each other good night, though it was a long and torturous while before Harry fell asleep. 


	2. Chapter Two

Tonks was making rather a mess of waltzing around the kitchen, bumping alternatively into chairs, the table, or the wall, brandishing yet another Daily Prophet clipping. "Can you believe it?" she gushed, thankfully lowering herself into a tottery little black chair as Harry and Ron came downstairs, taking seats next to a dazed looking Ginny and a Hermione whose eyes were rather larger than usual, especially this early in the morning. Clearly they were relieved that the dancing lesson was over. "Twice in six days!"  
  
Harry's heart leapt to his throat, pounding there uncomfortably as Mrs. Weasley passed him the toast. Six days ago he had come here. Six days ago the river had been on fire, six days ago the Death Eaters were escaping, six days ago, six days ago . . . The fact that Tonks was happy enough to actually attempt to waltz with the news was not registering. She grinned, showing no less than three dimples, brushing her hair - today long and black - out of her eyes, which - Harry had to blink a few times - were violet. "She's famous, that's what!"  
  
Harry looked at the article she had thrust under his nose. "Yesterday's, but that means it happens today!" Tonks added as he took it, reaching for the eggs and knocking over her orange juice. "Oops."  
  
"I'll get it," Mrs. Weasley said, a look on her face telling them she was slightly annoyed as she swiped the dark wood with a rag. Harry mentally shrugged and began to read.  
  
Famous Witch to Receive Award  
  
Madam Amy, formerly of Durmstang Academy and the creator of the now-famous Vampire Cure, will be attending a ceremony tomorrow afternoon at St. Mungo's Hospital to receive the Healer of the Year Award. "I'm quite pleased, rather shocked," she said yesterday in a hasty interview. "It's all so sudden, really."  
  
"It" not only includes her discovery and the announcement of the award but the fact that her assistant for the past three years is now taking over her old job at Durmstrang. "Oh, Andy'll be great full-time," she assured us. "No hard feelings there; he deserves it." And what is in this Healer's future? "I can't say," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "Nothing's been signed yet." But there is something there? "Oh, well, yes - yes, there is."  
  
We can only say that, whatever future she occupies, Madam Amy will undoubtedly make it better.  
  
"Why don't they call her Madam Black?" Harry said as the pounding in his throat dissolved and he actually thought he could manage the three slices of toast Ron had tossed on his plate before passing the rest around.  
  
"That's the whole deception thing," Tonks said, taking a large gulp of juice, recently poured. "See, it's like this: her Mum and Dad - I mean the second adopted set, Sirius's parents - were rather definitely Dark wizards, as were Regulus, Narcissa, and Bellatrix, with whom she actually kept close ties."  
  
"Oh, so they wanted the appearance of someone legitimate in their family?" Hermione asked, looking up from where she and Ginny and bent their heads over the article, their hair giving off golden highlights in the pale glow of the gas lamps.  
  
"Right. See, if Bellatrix had actually gotten a proper trial with witnesses and stuff, Amy would have been expected to stand up fro her moral character and whatnot, and be believed, since there's nothing bad about being a perfectly honest school Healer." Tonks nodded, again sweeping the hair out of her eyes as it did not seem to want to stay tucked behind her ears.  
  
"But she was really good," Ron clarified, looking as though his eyes were crossing with the strain of trying to figure this out.  
  
"'Course she was. Good at faking, too; Amy visited a quick bit last Easter, calmed down the portrait and everything. Even had Kreacher talking nice to her, obeying and not muttering so much when she was around."  
  
Although this seemed to amuse Tonks, Harry felt a bit uneasy. Someone faking a Dark mentality enough to actually get that horrid House Elf to listen to her, much less Sirius's mum, who screamed insults every time the curtain was parted? Supposedly Snape had done it, largely thanks to the fact that he was an accomplished Occlumens, but comparing Amy to Snape in no way filled Harry with warmth. On the contrary, Harry and Ron had never been convinced of Snape's true return to their side.  
  
Besides,Harry continued to himself, absentmindedly buttering his toast but forgetting the butter, everyone thought Wormtail was good and he betrayed my parents. The knife pierced the dry toast, barely scraping his finger, and he quickly looked up to see if anyone had noticed. No one had' Tonks was talking again.  
  
"- her about it, she can say it better. Or worse, it's more real that way. Jus be sure to ask about the Regulus disaster." A smile, albeit a rather grimace-like one, was back. "That would have been a rather sticky situation."  
  
"I thought he was dead," Harry said, more to look involved than anything else.  
  
"Well, he is; that's what saved her."  
  
Harry stared, but no one else seemed to catch the wording. Then again, maybe Tonks hadn't meant it that way, as if Amy had gotten out of . . . whatever . . . by killing Regulus, or at least arranging his death. Maybe it was all just a happy coincidence, Regulus dieing and Amy breathing a secret sigh of relief that she didn't have to do anything about it.  
  
"She's rather obsessed with her aunt, isn't she?" Ginny asked Harry later, plopping down beside him on the couch with a large book in her lap, a finger between the pages to mark her spot.  
  
He looked up from one of Ron's Quidditch books. "So you noticed, too?"  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear. She had gotten it cut, just past shoulder-length, but, unlike Tonks's, it stayed where she put it. "Come on, how can you not notice Tonks dancing around down there? There's no room to fall, unless she went across the table and got marmalade all over her or into our laps."  
  
"D'you think she - erm - is going to be joining the Order?" Harry tried to keep his voice neutral, though he had to admit he was sending out mental warning messages to see if she had caught anything strange.  
  
She cast a furtive look over her shoulder at the cracked door to see if anyone else was there, but Hermione had stayed down with Mrs. Weasley and Tonks and Ron had been invited to spend the day with the twins and had left when they came to get him after breakfast. "D'you really think it's possible to fake well enough to get past Kreacher?"  
  
"Honestly? I have no idea. Tonks idolizes her or something."  
  
"Hermione said that Amy had enough OWLs and stuff to become an Auror, but they don't teach that at Durmstrang." Ginny smiled wryly, and Harry was struck by the fact that he'd never seen her grin enough for a dimple. "Safer to be a Healer in this house, anyway. That's not taking sides."  
  
"Safe?" Harry frowned at her last statement. "But then we don't really know what side she's on."  
  
There was a moment in thoughtful silence in which Harry continued to crease his forehead and Ginny bit her lip, both of them focusing on the floor in front of them, but then she gave a little laugh. "Y'know, we haven't even met her yet."  
  
He had to agree, though his laugh was a bit more forced. "Yeah, OK . . . Hey, um . . . I haven't heard any of you talk about Percy?" Halfway through the question he had realized it might have been safer to leave it unasked, but he was really wondering.  
  
Ginny's face tightened; Harry noticed she was clutching the book tightly and she was still not looking at him. "He's ashamed, that's what Dad says. Avoids him, actually, avoids all of us. Mum's torn to bits, says we won't hold it against him - Fred and George have a rather different opinion on that - but he won't listen, sends the letters back unopened -"  
  
"Or resealed," Harry said, trying to be reassuring.  
  
She finally looked at him, eyes unnaturally bright. "Penelope left him right after the news came out, did you know? She'd stuck with him, but then she was blabbing all over the place that he was an idiot, couldn't think for himself, and they were through. Mum's worried about him, Dad too, but he won't say it, just clams up and studies his hands until someone changes the subject. They're afraid of what he's going to do, if he's depressed . . ." She trailed off, not looking at him again.  
  
Harry felt rather helpless, sitting on the outside of a family problem and having no idea how to help. Not that he could, anyway, but the Weasleys had done so much for him already . . .  
  
"Hermione's been really nice," Ginny said softly, breaking the silence so he wouldn't have to, running her free hand along the edges of her book's cover. "I mean, she listens and everything, but . . ."  
  
"But then she starts quoting Hogwarts, A History and you lose all patience?" Harry said, attempting a smile.  
  
She actually laughed, a reaction with which he was quite pleased, and they smiled at each other before returning to the books. For a while Harry remained on the same page, the same line - the same word, actually. He was taken back to before Christmas when another girl had tried telling him about her problems and he had proven . . . well . . . less than adequate as she sobbed uncontrollably on his shoulder, but at least Hermione had not accused him with the emotional range of a teaspoon, right? And Ginny had at least laughed, right? I mean, she wasn't crying like Cho had been - he'd had enough of that, thank you very much - and she'd even smiled, right?  
  
Sighing, Harry returned to his book. At least Quidditch had rules, and once the game was over you could forget it, because there was always another game to play and it all started out the same, clean slate and all. Unlike life. Forcing that thought out of his head, Harry focused his eyes on the page and actually managed to read, at least until Hermione and Tonks had come to look for them to play Exploding Snap and the young Auror once again toppled the umbrella stand, actually catching it before it fell completely, but still the umbrellas went everywhere and cries of, "Filth! Mudbloods! Half-bloods and traitors!" echoed through the house until Mrs. Weasley could finally put a stop to it.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry was wondering how in the world Andromeda Tonks had put up with her daughter twenty-four hours a day, seven days a year, for at least seventeen years. The young Auror was a flurry of activity. "She's arriving here tomorrow!" she'd exclaimed upon reading a short letter, jumping to her feet, black hair in her face once more. "We have to get ready!" And then Tonks had bustled out of the room, by some miracle missing the umbrella stand on her way to prepare Mrs. Black's old bedroom for her aunt.  
  
Mrs. Weasley raised an eyebrow. "Did anyone pause to warn her aunt she's going to have a Hippogriff for a roommate?"  
  
"Oh, Amy was here for a quick visit last Easter, I'm sure she knows," Hermione said, helping to pick up the dishes from their recently finished lunch. "But I really don't see why Tonks has to get that room ready; didn't Amy live here?"  
  
"Her mum's room is probably bigger," Ron said, snagging one more piece of chocolate cake and trying to ignore the reproachful look his mum gave him. "And maybe Buckbeak likes the company."  
  
"Sure, so she can feed it dead rats all day, that sounds absolutely wonderful," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes, but Ron ignored her, too.  
  
Tonks was a nervous wreck all the next day, pacing and making it impossible for Harry to concentrate on his book, glad to get away from the lunch table where she was tapping her fingernails, long and pink and eerily reminiscent of Rita Skeeter's. "She's s'posed to arrive around five," Ginny said, slipping into the den with the others.  
  
"Thank God, I can't take this much longer," Ron moaned. No one had bothered to point out to him that the book he had been staring at for at least half an hour was upside-down. Then again, Harry had to check to make sure his wasn't, after noticing that.  
  
"Ron," Hermione admonished sharply. "Tonks hasn't seen her aunt in a while, and from what I can tell they're rather close."  
  
"Yeah, well, we haven't seen Percy in a while, and I'm quite sure I wouldn't be jumpy as a cat if we got a letter saying he was going to come at five o'clock." He blinked, seeming to notice for the first time that his book was upside-down, but he was too stubborn to change it. Instead he turned a page from right to left, as if he were actually reading it despite its orientation. Harry was reminded rather forcefully of one Luna Lovegood . . .  
  
"Well, that's a bit different, isn't it?" Hermione sniffed, raising her book up again so there was no question she was reading.  
  
Ginny, who had been standing by the doorway and watching this exchange, raised an eyebrow and came over to sit by Harry. "Happy couple," she muttered, leafing through a stack of magazines on the end table, none of them more recent than 1976.  
  
Harry snorted. "Them? A couple? Where in the world have you been?"  
  
She smiled, selecting a tattered issue of Witch Weekly. "So, how well do you know Dean Thomas?"  
  
He had to grin as Ron visibly perked up, straining to listen to them. He dropped the pretense of reading after a record three minutes, contradicting everything good Harry had to say, whereupon Hermione joined in on Harry's side, clearly wanting Ginny to get together with Dean, even just because it irked Ron.  
  
Five o'clock came rather quickly and, before anything more lethal than pillows flew across the room, there was the sound of Tonks clattering down the stairs and a rather distant shriek of delight. "I wonder if he aunt's here," Ginny said vaguely, trying to retrieve a particularly horrid puce- colored pillow without having to get out of her seat, failing, and having to save herself from toppling to the floor.  
  
Harry laughed, standing and helping her up. The four of them spent a bit gathering the pillows and arranging them in the most horrid way possible, checks and plaids and colors that almost-but-not-quite matched. "I think that's enough time for the family reunion," Hermione said, checking the black - and rather menacing - Grandfather clock in the corner. There'd been a Bogart in that, too, before they'd brought it down from the attic, but Mad-Eye had been around to identify it and take care of it, much to Mrs. Weasley's relief.  
  
They went downstairs, Harry hanging back to be last, not entirely sure how he was going to react at the meeting. Luckily, there were two other people there to distract them: Mr. Wesley, who greeted his children enthusiastically, hat sliding from his head as he gave Ginny a hug and throwing Harry a little salute, and Professor Snape. He gazed at Harry rather stonily from behind his greasy black hair, managing to look down his nose even though Harry's last growth spurt had brought them within a few inches of each other. His scar gave a little twinge - something to do with Snape? Something else? - but he turned away to take in the newcomer.  
  
Amy was talking animatedly to Tonks and Hermione about the details of the ceremony, giving him time to look. Her hair, indeed a deep black, was cut to just brush her shoulders but, unlike Snape's, it was silky and gave a hint of red highlights in the flicker from the lamps. She was about Harry's height and of medium build, and her smile was rather infectious, especially when her eyes sparkled to match her laugh. Tonks seemed to finally notice him. "Auntie, this is Harry," she said, beckoning him forward.  
  
"'Wotcher,' Harry," Amy said, a wink at her niece as she used her unique greeting. "I've been told a lot about you." Her voice was medium pitched, and she almost seemed to sing the words, though Harry could not help glance over his shoulder. "Don't worry," she said, tossing Snape a flash of her smile, "it's not all been from Sev."  
  
Ron caught Harry's eye and mouthed, Sev? Harry quickly had to look away to keep from laughing. He was sure that, had anyone of them tried to call the Potions master by his first name, let alone a nickname, they would have been fried on the spot.  
  
"Will you be staying for dinner?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking at Snape as she knew the rest of them would be.  
  
"Oh, please do!" Amy said, grabbing his arm as if to prevent any thought of him leaving.  
  
He lifted an eyebrow. "We've just spent six days in each other's company."  
  
Amy released him, brushing her hair out of her eyes and pretending to look hurt. "Oh, I see. I'm dreadfully boring, is that it? Can't stand me another minute?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley nodded knowingly. "I'll go and set another place." She turned and went down the stairs.  
  
Amy smiled smugly, linking arms with Tonks and going downstairs with her, discussing Tonks's social life - admittedly, not much. Harry hurried after them, not wanting to be stuck too close to Snape for very long. Forget disappearing, it felt as if his stomach had been filled with burning embers. If Snape hadn't treated him like such an idiot that night . . . He shook himself mentally, shoving that to the back of his mind, remembering Dumbledore had found him a good Occlumens to teach him to keep it there.  
  
Dinner was a noisy affair, the twins and Charlie showing up as a surprise right before they started. "Had to drag him away," Fred said, pulling up a chair next to Harry.  
  
"Yeah, just couldn't leave all those dragons," George chimed in, heaping mashed potatoes on his plate as if he'd heard a prediction that this would be the last night he could have any.  
  
Mrs. Weasley was so happy she had to wipe her eyes on her apron corner before hugging her second-oldest son tightly. "Charlie! How long are you staying?"  
  
"Two weeks," he grinned, though Harry noticed the shine of a burn at the base of his neck, covered mostly by his shirt. "I didn't want to tell you, in case I couldn't get away."  
  
"You'll be here for the next meeting, then," Tonks said, looking rather pleased to see him, something that escaped neither Harry's notice, nor her aunt's, who smiled into her peas.  
  
"It appears so." He smiled back, and everyone squeezed in closer to fit them in.  
  
Harry spent dinner studying the different groups of people. Charlie and his parents were carefully staying on topics that involved things other than the Order, though Charlie and Tonks had no problem filling the time with the Weird Sister's, her favorite band and apparently his, too, and some of the new broomsticks, Charlie having been Quidditch Captain and Seeker, Tonks having been Chaser. Ron and the twins were involved in something to do with the joke shop, something that made them all laugh, and Hermione - who had actually brought a book to the table - didn't even look up.  
  
Amy spent most of the time between Tonks and Snape, the latter usually speaking in low tones. One he even put a hand on the back of her chair to whisper something in her ear, at which she tried to keep a straight face but ended up laughing, swatting him playfully on the shoulder.  
  
It was during a lull in the conversation that Ron tactlessly asked, "If you're a Healer, why didn't you fix up your nose?"  
  
Dead silence for perhaps two seconds before Mrs. Weasley and Hermione started saying "Ron!" in annoyed voices, but Harry was looking at Amy. She, Snape, and Tonks were all grinning, finally giving in and cracking up.  
  
"It's be - because she's vain!" Tonks hooted, slapping the table.  
  
"Oh - shut up!" Amy gasped, and it was her turn to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. "No, really, it's all right," she assured Mrs. Weasley. "Actually, I'm surprised not more people ask, they usually aren't that observant."  
  
Ron looked like he wanted to puff up with pride, but his mum was still watching him, so he settled for a blank face.  
  
"When I was younger," Amy explained, "I hated my nose. Horrible thing, in my opinion, but Mum - either of them - disapproved of me changing it. I was a Beater starting my fifth year, not too good in our first game, and I took a Bludger to the face before it was through. Basically I liked my reflection better after I mopped up the blood and didn't let anyone fix it. They can only be fixed properly within a couple hours, anyway, so that's all I had to be stubborn for. So, yeah, maybe I'm vain, but I didn't get hit any more after that, either." She shrugged, self-consciously tracing the bump on her nose with her index finger.  
  
"Dumbledore has a broken nose," Fred piped up.  
  
"Yeah, twice, by the looks of it," George added.  
  
"Decided to stop before the full look, did you?"  
  
Amy grinned. "That, and I seem to be cursed with a thin beard."  
  
They all laughed, and the conversations rose again, though Harry kept a particularly close watch on her and Snape. When dinner was over, before he left, Harry dawdled on the stairs as the two of them stood by the door. "Take care of yourself, Severus," she told him, hugging him tightly.  
  
"You too." Then - Harry tried not to pull a face - he kissed her cheek before they parted, hurrying up the stairs so he wouldn't have to speak to her.  
  
"What was up with that?" Hermione was asking as he went into the den, pulling the door shut behind him.  
  
"Yeah, how long have Tonks and Charlie -"  
  
"Not them," Hermione said, cutting off Ron, exasperated. "Didn't you notice anything else going on?"  
  
"Please, I just ate," Ginny said, curling up on "her" corner of the couch.  
  
"It got worse," Harry said grimly, sitting down next to her on the edge of the cushion. "Before they left, he kissed her good-bye. On the cheek," he hastened as Ginny and Hermione looked a little green.  
  
"But still." Hermione was pacing back and forth between the grandfather clock and a map of the world, one that looked ancient but was really up-to- date as it was bewitched to change as borders did. "That doesn't say much about her, now, does it?"  
  
"About who?" Ron looked rather confused, flopped into an armchair haphazardly. "Who are we talking about?"  
  
Before Hermione could say anything about teaspoons, Ginny cut in, "Snape and Amy, does that mean anything to you?"  
  
Ron had the decency to pale. "You're joking."  
  
"Just because you have no feelings for your fellow human beings doesn't mean the rest of us are just as cursed," Hermione snapped, whirling around by the map, arms crossed. "Listen, you know what Tonks said about Amy faking to be Dark, right?"  
  
Harry inclined his head, still sitting almost uncomfortably upright. "I thought you were the one who said Snape was good, he'd proven it to Dumbledore and all."  
  
"But the fact remains he was a Death Eater." She stopped in the middle of the room in front of the fireplace, empty as it was so hot. "If he could turn around and spy, then how much could she be fooling us?"  
  
"Hey, wait." Ron was waving his hand in the air like she was a teacher and he had a question about the test. "Haven't we gone this route before, suspecting someone was Dark when he really wasn't and completely missing out on Quirell or 'Moody'? And let's not forget Sirius, everyone thought he was a mass-murderer and -" He stopped talking abruptly, hastily looking at Harry. "Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to -"  
  
"It's all right," Harry said quickly, more because that would get this over faster than because it really was all right. "I think we all got your point."  
  
Hermione looked like she was going to argue, actually bouncing on the balls of her feet, as if saying something would be stepping off the edge of a cliff and she was not sure she wanted the fall. "All right, then," she finally said, still biting her lip. "It was just - something to point out."  
  
It was Ginny who broke the silence, steering them onto the safer topic of Quidditch and the empty spots on the Gryffindor team, keeping the four of tem occupied until the inevitable cries from Mrs. Weasley: "Bed! All of you! Now!" Smiling, they scurried off.  
  
Harry dropped off almost immediately, something for which he was rather thankful, at least until the dream began - then he felt a bit nauseated. He was standing in a church, except there were no walls, only stained glass windows floating there, and the ceiling was that of the Great Hall. He was in some frilly set of silver robes, obviously performing the marriage ceremony. Snape was the groom, and when the bride came up and lifted her veil -  
  
He gave a yelp and started running, spurred on by the fact that the bride had Snape's face, as well. But the silver robes tripped him up and he was falling, falling, and landing hard on his back, looking up to see a dark blue sky, but then Ron gave a snort and he burst awake, sitting up quickly in the swatch of moonlight falling across his bed. Hedwig and Pigwidgeon were hooting softly from the top of the wardrobe, but they could not be let out to hunt that night. Harry blinked, shaking his head to clear it of the image of the church, then - almost against his will - his lips curled into a smile and he shook with silent laughter, turning over and going back to sleep. When he woke up in the morning, he didn't remember the dream.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry was heading upstairs from breakfast when he heard voices in the den. Casting a glance over his shoulder assured him he was alone, so he side- stepped closer to the door, putting his ear to the crack. "- know what's going on!" Tonks was saying. "Look, I don't even know who you are." Harry held his breath; this sounded promising.  
  
"My birth parents don't factor into this at all," Amy said, sounding exasperated. "You've asked me time and time again, but they don't matter. They got rid of me and never looked back, never even put forth an effort to see if I was still alive."  
  
"But you know who they are."  
  
"Well, yes; they can't hide that from you." There was a creak inside as if she had just sat on one of the armchairs. "But that's not what's bothering you this time, is it?" Her voice was softer.  
  
Tonks hesitated. "No."  
  
Amy waited, just to see if her niece would continue, picking up the thread when she did not. "He told me you're concerned."  
  
"He told you I talked to you?" The young Auror's voice was sharp. "How much did he say?"  
  
"That you were concerned, and that he was flattered. I was, too, if you care enough about him to go so far as to go behind my back and tell him."  
  
"It wasn't like I could have done it in front of you," Tonks said stiffly.  
  
"No, no, of course not," Amy hastened to reassure her. "And it was the right thing to do."  
  
Harry tried to shift his weight without the old floorboards giving a creak. They had dropped their voices, making it harder for them to hear, and they were both familiar with the topic whereas he had no clue. Were they talking about Snape? He had to suppress a shudder at that thought, mentally shaking himself and straining to hear.  
  
"And what you're doing is the right thing too, is it?" Tonks was not accusatory, more questioning, wanting reassurance.  
  
"Trust me."  
  
"How?" her niece cried. "You have no idea how it looks -"  
  
"Tonks. My entire life has been about 'how this looks.'" Amy's voice was wry; she might have been smiling.  
  
There was a moment of silence. "I'm not going to be at the Ministry this year," Tonks said at last, not sounding as though she were changing the subject but doing to anyway.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah, Fudge's assigned two Aurors to Hogwarts, me and Mad-Eye." Harry perked up; this sounded like fun. Well, and like a good idea, but having Tonks and Moody around was definitely not a recipe for dull.  
  
"And isn't a certain someone going to be there as well, to care for the new attack dragon?"  
  
Harry knew Tonks was blushing furiously. "Yes, Charlie'll be there, he only told me last night."  
  
Amy laughed. "Dumbledore warned me what I was getting into, accepting the position of school Healer. I said I'd be sure to keep an eye on you, chaperone dates . . ."  
  
"Aunt Amy!"  
  
She heaved a sigh. "Fine, take away all my fun." A short pause. "You'd rather I wasn't there at all, huh?"  
  
"Well . . . not that I don't want you around," Tonks said hastily, "but St. Mungo's said all you had to do was wave your hand to get a job, and I know you like school Healing, but . . . it'll be just like you-know-when, is all."  
  
To Harry that was an entirely unsatisfactory ending. Sure, maybe Amy and Tonks knew when, but he certainly had no clue. He shoved his glassed up on his nose and leaned in closer.  
  
"It'll be better," Amy said softly, reassuring her. "And besides, no one has to know, if you don't want to tell anyone. You're Nymphadora Tonks and I'm Amy -"  
  
"Adele Mavis Yvonne," Tonks cut in. "Turnabout's fair play."  
  
"Fine, Adele Mavis Yvonne Black -"  
  
"But you're not," Tonks interrupted again. "You're Adele Mavis Yvonne Something Black."  
  
Another, shorter pause. Harry could hear voices downstairs and mentally willed the pair in the den to hurry up and come out and say it.  
  
"Tonks -"  
  
"Look, I'm just having a hard time believing he's letting you do it. I mean, maybe you're okay with it, but he can't be - can he? Because he looks for all the world like he's enjoying it."  
  
How many "he's" were there? Harry wondered. Half a dozen, at least . . .  
  
"Oh, but he's not, not like that . . ." Amy trailed off.  
  
"Aunt Amy?" Tonks said softly.  
  
A door slammed downstairs and there was the sound of footsteps.  
  
"You're right," Amy said softly. "I do need to tell you. You see, Tonks, I was -"  
  
"Harry!" Ron's voice echoed in the entryway below. "Harry, the letters are here! Grab your cloak, we're going to Diagon Alley!"  
  
"Coming!" Harry said, forcing cheeriness into his voice as he ran to get his cloak. Still, even as they were on the Underground and the people around him were laughing and chatting up a storm, he was thinking about Amy. You see, Tonks, I was - She was what? Amy was what?  
  
Hermione noticed he wasn't joining in, just staring moodily out the window, and elbowed him slightly. "What's up?"  
  
Ron had noticed and nudged Ginny.  
  
"Tell you later," Harry said, looking at each of them to include them all. Then maybe they'd think of something, maybe they'd fill in some of the holes.  
  
Hermione linked arms with him and Ginny as they emerged into the sunlight. "C'mon, you two!" she cried merrily, and, laughing, they made a rather bad job of skipping down the street, Ron running to catch up.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dumbledore showed up briefly the next afternoon, mostly to have a word with Mrs. Weasley and the members of the Order present, but he did actually ask to see Harry. He smiled at the teenager, adjusting the half-moon glasses on his nose and tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robes, a brilliant jade green embroidered with golden suns. "Ah, Harry. I believe Phineas delivered my message?"  
  
It took him a moment to work out exactly what the message had been. "Oh, my teacher?"  
  
"Yes. You have not been curious?"  
  
There had been so much going on with Amy - and Snape; he tried not to shudder - that Occlumency had totally slipped his mind. Harry was trying to work that into some sort of pun when the Headmaster seemed to read his thoughts. "It's Amy."  
  
"Huh?" What was Amy? Had he done it right there, actually read his mind? Then again, he had not been keeping eye contact, and Snape had stressed that that was key.  
  
"Your Occlumency teacher is Amy." Dumbledore paused for a moment, though Harry once again avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the opposite wall in the kitchen. "Was there something you wanted to ask me?"  
  
About Amy? Yes. Was she a Death Eater? Was she "with" Snape, perhaps an old girlfriend brought back into light or something? Was she really as awful as Snape and just so good at acting as to fool them all? Was she fooling Dumbledore, or was she fooling the rest of her adopted family? In short, to whom was she lying, because it couldn't all be the truth?  
  
"She is a good teacher, a friend of an old friend, though I do not know her well as I'd like; he seems to find her rather wonderful." Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled. "Actually, she'd like to begin lessons straight away," he said, moving to the staircase. Harry stayed put, not knowing exactly what to do, but he opened the door, stuck his head out, and Amy came down, dressed today in a maroon t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, looking younger than her supposed age. "Well, then; I suppose I should leave you two to start." With a smile for her and a wink for Harry, Dumbledore Disapparated.  
  
"All right, then," Amy said, shutting the door securely behind her and removing her wand form her pocket as she came down the stairs. "Severus has told me how far he thinks you got when he was teaching, but I'm kind of looking for your opinion on this, as well."  
  
Harry swallowed. He'd never practiced, only managed to deflect the spell once using his wand, and basically wanted the dreams to continue. "Actually . . . what he said's probably true," Harry said carefully, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms down the sides of his blue jeans. He stood up, rather uncomfortable with sitting and being below her level.  
  
"Hmm. Than you're an arrogant fool who has no respect for other people's private things, always gives cheek to the professor, and thinks he's too good for homework or extra practice." She was rubbing her temple with the end of her wand, and Harry was struck by the color of the wood, a golden- red, almost like Ginny's hair. "I could go on, you know."  
  
"Rather you didn't. What kind of wand is that?" It was a random question, he knew, but still . . .  
  
"Rosewood. With a rather exceptional wand polish. Twelve and three quarters inches, dragon heartstring. Why, does it look rather threatening?" Her grin, meant to calm him, only half worked.  
  
"Well - hey, look: I'm not very good at this, he wasn't lying about that. And you're kind of going to be having free access to my memories, so, yeah, I'd say that's rather threatening." Harry ran a hand through his hair. Granted, he'd never quite trusted Snape, either, but this was a stranger, related to Bellatrix Lestrange with the same closeness as Sirius, and this was not going to be fun any way you looked at it.  
  
"You blocked it once," she said softly, wand pointed downward in her relaxed hand. "You managed."  
  
"But I'm not going to be able to do it now!" Harry wished desperately for one of Dumbledore's spindly little silver instruments; he could have used one to throw just then. "I can't clear my mind the way he said you have to, not now!" His chest was heaving, constricting, and he had no idea why.  
  
Amy put her wand away, looking like someone was tearing her heart out through her chest. "You have to face it, Harry. You can't just keep shoving it into the back of your mind, hoping it'll stay there, because the first things I'm going to see are the ones you haven't let yourself look at since they happened. No, I'm not finished," she said, holding up a hand as she tried to protest. "I think I know what I'm saying, having seen so many die."  
  
"You think I should mourn him like you mourned Regulus," Harry spat, not entirely sure of what he was saying, but he wanted to hurt her, to make her feel the way he was feeling.  
  
Amy looked as though she had just been slapped. "How can you say that? How can you - Harry -" She paused to collect herself. "I did mourn Regulus," she said, measuring every word, "but not for the reason people think. I mourned that brother for the man he might have been, but we need to mourn Sirius for the man he was. Don't you see the difference?"  
  
"But then that means he's really dead." Harry couldn't look at her, not when his vision was blurring with tears that burned his eyes. "That makes it really final, I'll never speak to him again, never see him, never, never, never anything!" For lack of anything to throw, he kicked the wall, welcoming the sort of pain that would easily fade with time. "He's the only parent I've ever known, don't you see that? I lost Mum and Dad before I could even know I had them, ever be thankful for it, and now" - he kicked again - "now I don't even have that second chance!" He broke down then, just collapsing sideways against the cool wall and sinking to the floor, tears spilling down his cheeks.  
  
She was there beside him, kneeling next to him, putting her arms around him and rocking him gently like a mother would. "God, Harry, don't you think I know? My real parents didn't even want me . . . Lily and James . . . you were their pride and joy . . ."  
  
"But it didn't matter, I lost them anyway," he managed in a strained whisper, taking his glasses off so he could press his face into her shoulder. "It didn't matter, and it didn't matter I loved him back, he's still gone . . ." A fresh wave of sobs wracked his body and he felt helpless, so helpless in the grip of grief that he was turning to her for comfort.  
  
Amy held him tightly, rubbing his back soothingly even though she was crying, too. "Dumbledore told me what you'd said that night, about how you thought it was your fault." She took a shuddery breath. "I would have done the same thing if I'd seen that."  
  
"But it wouldn't have mattered!" He was having a hard time getting the words out in his anguish. "It wouldn't have mattered because Kreacher couldn't've lied to you, or you would have done something different, or you wouldn't've dragged everyone else along with you!"  
  
"Be glad he could lie, you wouldn't like the alternative," she said wryly, shifting so her legs wouldn't fall asleep beneath her. "As for your friends - you didn't want to take them because they weren't ready, they weren't experienced. I feel the same way about Tonks all the time - she's too young to do that, she hasn't done enough yet. But you know what, Harry?" Gently she pulled him away to look at her, smoothing the hair off his hot forehead and not letting him look away. "If I don't let her go out and do it, she'll never have the experience. And, deny someone something, they're just going to go out and do it."  
  
"But it's myfault," he insisted, cursing his eyes as they welled up again and scrubbing at them with the back of his hand, turning partially away from her but still having to lean against her because of his position. "If I'd kept up with Occlumency, if I'd really checked, if I'd gone to - to Snape first, if I'd just used the damned mirror . . ." He slammed a fist into the wall this time, scraping his knuckles, almost glad to see blood.  
  
Amy caught his hand before he could injure it further. "And it's my fault, too. I was going to leave Durmstrang last year, to come here and keep him company, keep Kreacher under some measure of control, but Sirius insisted I stay up there and live my life. If I'd been here, d'you think any of this would have happened? If any of a thousand little things had been different, would this have happened?"  
  
"How are you supposed to tell?" Harry said, almost shouting it. "How are you supposed to know any of that, if it would have worked? That's the way it happened, dammit!" She was too slow to keep him from punching again, this time splitting his knuckle wide open.  
  
"Hey, stop!" Amy said, grabbing his wrist with more strength this time and forcing him away from the wall. "You want to destroy something, I'll give you dishes, just stop this!"  
  
He was too out of it to notice the blood running down the back of his hand. "What's the point?" he raged. "Nothing matters anymore!" Struggling hard, he managed to throw her off, quickly getting his feet under him in a crouch as he scrabbled for his glasses and slipped them back on.  
  
Amy shoved the hair off her face, propping herself up on an elbow but not rising to challenge him, blood on her lip from where she had bitten it. "Then it doesn't matter if Voldemort wins."  
  
Harry froze, not even entirely sure what he was going to do, but he was halfway to standing. "What?"  
  
"Nothing matters anymore." She tossed his words back to him in a dull, flat voice. "You might as well go kill yourself now, fulfill the prophecy and all."  
  
He blinked, noticing for the first time that the cuff of his sleeve was soaked and glistening darkly. "I didn't say that."  
  
Her eyes bored into his.  
  
"I didn't mean that!" Harry stood swiftly, cradling his right hand in his left and trying not to flee. "I didn't mean that." Softer this time, so that it didn't echo in the small space. His eyes darted around as if something might come at him from the shadowed corners, but they were alone.  
  
Amy sat up slowly, though she did not stand, choosing only to sit cross- legged almost under the table where he had shoved her. "You need to learn something Severus made me figure out on my own and probably didn't tell you: you can't ignore the memories that hurt. You have to take them out, look at them, examine them, and be able to get past the pain. Don't think of the graveyard; think about when Cedric beat you at Quidditch and feel bemused. Don't think about what happened to Sirius then; think about finding him, about him chasing his tail and being absolutely ridiculous when he was a dog. See, the point isn't not to feel anything - the point is not to feel anything that hurts you. When you avoid something, I can pull it from your mind faster and it will hurt you all the more."  
  
"Snape taught you?" Harry's voice was as dull as his eyes. They were focused on the nearest corner, at the shadows that lay there unmoving. He was exhausted, truly exhausted, unable to even conjure a spark of hatred at the Potions professor, or at the fact that she had mentioned him again.  
  
Amy nodded once. "After I was out of school. After most of the horrible stuff had happened. He's a tough teacher, doesn't give any hints or anything, makes you do it all yourself and feel stupid in the process."  
  
"Did he take out three memories for you?" He turned to her, trying to call forth some sort of reaction, a tiny flare of thought, but his brain had witnessed enough for the day and was waiting for him to catch on.  
  
A wry smile lifted one side of her mouth. "Two. I happen to be part of the third."  
  
If he hadn't felt a bit queasy then, he definitely felt a twinge now. Good thing he was too tired to even start to imagine what that memory was . . . He shuddered anyway. "Are we done then?" His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth.  
  
"No." Amy stood, reaching for her wand again and brushing the remnants of tears of her face. "Wand at the ready, Harry. The sooner we start, the sooner you begin to succeed."  
  
"No." He shook his head, unconsciously backing up, and he only realized it when he hit the wall, stinging his head as well as his hand. "No, Amy -"  
  
"Wand at the ready," she repeated, her own raised and pointed at him. "Empty your mind."  
  
He didn't have time. "Legilimens."  
  
The graveyard and Cedric's spread-eagle body . . . the brain wrapping its tendrils around Ron . . . Sirius falling though the veil, never to bee seen again . . . No, Harry thought. No, not him . . . not him . . .  
  
He was on the floor, on all fours, breathing hard, and his wand was still in his pocket. Amy reached down to help him up, conjuring bandages out of the air and having them wrap around his hand tightly. Immediately the pain started to ease. "You were handing me the memories," she said softly.  
  
"I didn't have time!" he snapped, pulling away from her.  
  
"And Voldemort is going to warn you before he raises his wand?"  
  
They looked at each other, Harry glaring, Amy looking . . . sad, almost . . . for a long minute. "You're making me think of them," he spat. "You're making me weak."  
  
"If you can think of them and smile you're not weak. But first you have to think of them and not be able to smile." Her mouth twitched slightly, as if she were going to say something more but thought better of it, visibly settling on another line of thought. "I've had two sets of parents die, two brothers, a sister . . . not all of them all I'd have liked them to be, but they were parents and such just the same. And when they die, and you do care . . ." She took a deep, steadying breath. "Nothing prepares you for it, Harry, not even the second time. But please, listen to me on this: I've suffered before, and the only way I can rationalize it is to help you not to suffer, to help you do this."  
  
He turned away, face set and stony, jaw clenched and lips pressed together tightly.  
  
She paused a moment, just studying his back, the stiffness in his posture. "We will do this again three nights hence," Amy said softly, returning her wand to her pocket. "I wish you would practice. And Harry -" He had been about to leave, but he stopped, still not looking at her. "I wish you wouldn't hate me."  
  
He had no response for her, shoving his wand in his jeans and taking the stairs two at a time up to his room, glad Ron was already asleep. Ignoring the hooting of the owls he went to the window seat, tucking his legs up and staring moodily outside, forehead pressed to the cool glass. It was very late when he changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed, though later still when he finally fell asleep, wiping the fresh tears from his face and being too exhausted to even have a nightmare.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Hermione sighed, kneading her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Harry, I really don't know what to say. Amy's fine, she's not Dark or anything."  
  
"How do you know she's not faking for you, too?" he demanded, tossing a glass paperweight back and forth as he walked around the den, circling Ginny, who was curled up on the couch and listening with only half an ear as she read, and Ron and Hermione, each sitting on the floor and concentrating on killing the other in a rather vicious game of chess. "How d'you know you're not being duped like the rest of us?"  
  
Her eyes narrowed, though they were focused on the welfare of her queen, not on Harry's face, as she had seen that stormy look may times before. "It's not like you've given us much information, really. I mean," she hastily added, "maybe you've quoted them word for word, but still, that's not much, not when we have no idea what they were talking about in the first place."  
  
"She's teaching me Occlumency - d'you think I'm able to hide anything from her?" The paperweight was being thrown more carelessly now; a slip would send it into the glass on the front of the grandfather clock, ruining the casing, the small, clear cauldron, or both.  
  
"This isn't about you, Harry," she said, rushing through the words as if afraid he would have a reaction. "This is about the Order, keeping the secrets they feel they need to keep and not telling us more than we need to know."  
  
He was white-knuckled, clutching the cauldron with such ferocity the bewitched liquid inside started turning from a pleasant green to a rather acrid yellow. "This isn't about me?" It was hard to read his voice, though it sounded strained, and his face was carefully, stonily blank. "Then what I think and feel doesn't matter."  
  
Ginny and Ron tensed, not wanting to get into this in case Harry somehow tangled them up in a web of being against him, leaving Hermione very much alone. "That's not what I meant," she said irritably, carelessly sacrificing a knight, "and you know it. You're just in a bad mood because Amy gave you good advice."  
  
Harry stopped, shoving the hair off his forehead - almost using the hand that held the paperweight and clobbering himself, switching to the left at the last second - and felt as if steam were about to come out of his ears. "Good advice? Like hell she gave me good advice!"  
  
"About Sirius," Hermione persisted, sighing and looking up as Ron did a little victory dance, having won the game by a long shot. "You've been avoiding thinking about him. She's right, you have to, or else it's just an open wound that doesn't go away and is more easily infected."  
  
"Poetic analogy, Hermione," Ron muttered, making a face. "But you have to admit you've been ignoring him, mate," he said, looking cautiously up at his best friend as if afraid Harry had recently acquired eyes that shot flames on command.  
  
Harry almost wished he had. "Maybe it's just my way of dealing it," he spat, starting to pace again so he wouldn't have to meet anyone's eyes.  
  
"Then you're not dealing very well." Hermione looked almost ill as she said it, waiting for him to start shouting, or worse. "You have to admit at least that, Harry, even if you don't want to admit her way is right. You're avoiding it completely."  
  
"Yeah? And have your parents ever died? No? Didn't think so. And you," Harry spat viciously, whirling on Ron and almost losing control of the paperweight - South America actually shrank away from what might have been the point of collision. "Don't you have any sympathy? Look at your dad, last year, but that time I didn't mess up, did I? I actually saved him, instead of killing him." Thoroughly angry with himself, he dropped the cauldron and punched the wall again, swearing loudly as the pain shot through his already bandaged hand. "Look, I don't care what Dumbledore says, or Amy, or anyone else, it's my fault and always will be, because I'm just some gullible idiot with a 'saving people' thing!"  
  
Hermione looked close to tears. "But Harry, it's not," she pleaded softly.  
  
He looked about to explode. "It is, and it's my fault my parents died, too!" There, he'd said it, finally come out and said it. He, the boy who lived, famous Harry Potter, had gotten at least three people killed, the three that had loved him best.  
  
Silence rang throughout the room. Ginny had stopped turning pages; even the chessmen had stopped magically mending themselves.  
  
"That's not true," Hermione finally managed, licking her dry lips, eyes intent on Harry's face.  
  
"Wanna bet?" Then, after having worried so long about how to tell them, he rattled off the prophecy that his friends had through lost. "Now try and tell me it wasn't," he finished, green eyes flashing as he crossed his arms over his chest, actually cradling his right in his left but trying not to show it, looking rather like a young Tom Riddle, resurrected from his diary and urging on a Basilisk.  
  
Hermione took a deep breath. "You didn't ask to be born."  
  
Harry actually barked a laugh. "Tell me about it." The anger seeped from him, weakening him at the seams and he flopped into one of the armchairs, leg flung over its arm, the other one digging into his back.  
  
Ginny cleared her throat. "Umm, if it's not too off topic . . . who's the sister?"  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to her with identical looks, each speaking, "Huh?"  
  
"Harry said Amy said she'd lost two sets of parents, two brothers, and a sister," Ginny said, recalling them to the original conversation. "The brothers would be Regulus and Sirius, from the second set of adoptive parents, but what about the sister?"  
  
"From the first," Ron said matter-of-factly. "There were enough of them, weren't there?"  
  
"Andromeda Tonks, Narcissa Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry listed off slowly.  
  
"Narcissa and Bellatrix are still alive, aren't they?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Unfortunately," Harry snorted.  
  
Hermione cast him a wary glace. "Maybe she had a sister from her original family."  
  
"She said the parents never gave a rip about her," Harry pointed out, sitting up as the position was giving him a pain in his back.  
  
"Well, that didn't say anything for the - what did she say?" Ron, who had turned around to face Harry, looked over his shoulder at Hermione.  
  
"You mean the thing about how they already had one brat and didn't want anything to do with another? According to Tonks," she added.  
  
"Yeah, that." He turned back to Harry. "Maybe that - er, brat - was female and Amy got in touch with her later, then . . . well . . . died."  
  
"And you said I was poetic?" Hermione muttered under her breath.  
  
"What if she does?" Ginny asked quickly, swiping her hair out of her face while keeping a hold on the book with the other, finger once again between the pages as a sort of bookmark. "What if, even, they had another brat after Amy and she has some regular siblings running around here, too? What if she has more family than anyone else knows?"  
  
Harry had a temporary mental image of a small army, all of whom looked like Amy in different years of her life, treating vampires and teaching kids Occlumency . . . "We just don't know enough about her," he decided.  
  
Hermione snorted. "We know a lot about, say, Professor Lupin? Does he have any relatives? Does he even have a social life? I mean, come on, Harry, you trust him, don't you?"  
  
"He was friends with Sirius and my dad," Harry objected.  
  
"Amy was his sister."  
  
"Sirius talked about him!" he protested. There was no way she was going to get him to admit he should trust Amy, because something about her was just . . . wrong. "You can't compare them like that," he snapped, almost pounding a fist on the arm of the chair and remembering before he could regret it. "She's just outside of all of the rules."  
  
Hermione forced herself to look away. "So, more chess, Ron?" she asked in a forced voice.  
  
Harry let himself slip into a sour mood as they started playing. His hand hurt. That meant he'd have to go and see Amy again for more bandages with the soothing potion on them. Great. Maybe he'd be able to overhear something more while he was at it. 


	3. Chapter Three

Amy smiled at him as he came down into the kitchen, making sure the door was shut securely. "How's your hand today? Didn't hit anything else, did you?"  
  
"No," Harry said shortly, clutching his wand with a rather sweaty hand. "Hey, look - I was thinking, are they going to be coming after me if I use magic against you?" The last thing he needed was another trial.  
  
"Before he asked me, Dumbledore got a permit for something akin to summer school. They're being rather nice to him at the Ministry, in lieu of recent events, and when he said it was for you they fell all over themselves." She rolled her eyes. "Since you're not crazy anymore . . . anyway, so long as I'm in the room and don't file anything against you, you're safe. Have you been practicing?"  
  
His mouth twisted. How was he supposed to be able to empty his mind and feel nothing if his thoughts were full of people coming at him about Sirius? "Kind of."  
  
Amy tilted her head. "Have you ever considered yoga?"  
  
Harry blinked, wondering whether she was crazier than even he had given her credit for. "Yoga?"  
  
"Yeah, the Muggle exercises used to clear the mind and restore the soul. Though we're only after the clearing-the-mind part." She waited a beat. "Well, have you?"  
  
"I, er - can't say I have." Couldn't say he wanted to, either, but that wasn't what she was asking him. "You're not going to start giving yoga lessons, are you?"  
  
She shrugged, sticking her wand in the waistband of her pants and finger- combing her hair back into a short ponytail, pulling an elastic band off her wrist to secure it. "Well, I can either start in and batter your mind right away or try and help you clear it, thus giving you a better chance of resisting."  
  
Harry wrinkled his nose, tucking his wand away, though not taking a step closer. "Have you ever had anyone refuse you after a buildup like that?"  
  
Amy shrugged, taking off her light jumper so she was just wearing a t-shirt and a pair of drawstring pants. It seemed she had come prepared. "Granted, it does seem a little weighted, but, if you were stubborn, you'd ignore anything I'd have to say, anyway." She did a few preliminary stretched, got poked by her wand, and took it out of her usual storage place to stick it through her ponytail. "Go ahead and laugh," she said, noticing the look on Harry's face - the wand was sticking straight up on the back of her head - but it works. Ready?"  
  
"Uh - sure." Granted, the wand was not in her hand, but it was close and within reach, so he did not feel comfortable putting his own elsewhere.  
  
Amy led him through perhaps half an hour of slow exercises, telling him to breathe deeply and clear his mind, her own eyes closed as she concentrated. "We can shorten these sessions as you get better at it," she said, finishing up. "How do you feel?"  
  
Harry had to admit he was feeling relaxed, calm and collected. He was not nearly as flexible as she was - he got the feeling she did this often - but his mind had taken a break from fast-paced fury and his heartbeat was slow and even. "Surprisingly good," he grudgingly admitted.  
  
"Allow me to apologize in advance. Wand at the ready." She slipped hers out of her hair and leveled it at him.  
  
"You aren't going to use a Pensieve?" Harry asked ruefully.  
  
"Nah. The way I figure, that'd give you perfect access to my most embarrassing memories, whereas this way you have to dig through an entire head." The fact that he had a thing for rifling through it when the memories were unguarded and not his own went unsaid. " Legilimens."  
  
He was finishing his homework by flashlight under his covers, trying not to drip ink on the pillow . . . he was landing after having caught Neville's Remeberall and Professor McGonnagal was storming across the lawn toward him . . . Aunt Marge was shoving a suitcase in his stomach . . . Piers was holding him down as Dudley prepared to punch him yet again . . .  
  
The images swirled around him and he was back in the gloomy kitchen, on his knees but not all fours, feeling remarkably clear-headed. "Hey, that was great!" Harry said enthusiastically, standing up and straightening his glasses. "Those were all really mild, they didn't hurt at all . . ."  
  
Amy had her wand relaxed, though it was obvious she had only just lifted the curse. "That should make them easier to throw off," she pointed out gently. "You weren't even trying."  
  
He blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. Of course he hadn't; he's been too caught up in the fact that it was so simple, so painless, and he was wondering whether Muggles didn't have something with yoga, after all. "Uh . . . no, not really."  
  
She tilted her head. "Ready?"  
  
He was. Kind of. The memories swarmed into view as her wand leveled; this time she didn't even speak the curse. Ron being dragged into the Whomping Willow by a large black dog . . . the black dog turning into his first glimpse of Sirius . . . Sirius, running into the room in the Department of Mysteries . . . No, no - not again! Not this! . . . Sirius falling, the laughter not having time to die from his eyes . . .  
  
Abruptly his mind was released. He was on all fours, breathing hard, wand having clattered from his hand. To his surprise Amy was leaning heavily on the edge of the table, face white, perspiration standing out on her forehead. "I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, eyes focused on something only she could see.  
  
Harry actually felt sorry for her. "Do you - d'you see everything I see?" he asked softly, grabbing his wand and carefully standing, feeling as if he were about to fall over.  
  
"Yeah. And feel at least vaguely what you feel, besides what I feel. Wonderful, isn't it?" She blinked, giving her head a shake. "You didn't try then, either. It was like you lit a path for me to follow, getting worse and worse with the memories as I went along."  
  
"Well, it's kind of hard to be happy!" he snapped.  
  
"Listen, buster, you punching something with that hand again, I'm going to seriously debate taking that arm out of your control," she threatened.  
  
In spite of himself, Harry was interested. "You can do that?"  
  
"Well, it'd be easier if I cut your arm off and replaced it with something of my own creation. That way I'd be able to make it do practically anything. The way it is now, all I'd be able to do its make it a dead weight swinging from your shoulder, but it'd stop you punching walls and getting even more scars on that hand."  
  
Harry colored slightly, looking way. The Umbridge scars. He was so used to seeing the faint thin white lines, he'd almost forgotten, but when she had re-bandaged his hand yesterday she'd done it by hand, gratefully applying a substance to the nasty cut before she did so.  
  
"How long did it take to do that?" she asked softly.  
  
"More than a week," he answered grudgingly. "Detention."  
  
"Why didn't you tell anyone? Scars are easy to take away when first formed. I might be able to lighten them further, but you'll always be able to see them, knowing they're there."  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," he said stiffly though, if she'd decided to throw the curse at him then, he was willing to bet those long hours in her horridly pink office would be one of the first memories to pop up.  
  
Amy considered the set of his face. "We'll stop there tonight, I think, but you should still practice. Saturday night, then."  
  
She didn't have to dismiss him; as soon as she had named the next lesson, he was up the stairs and out of there.  
  
* * * * *  
  
When he went into the den, the last thing Harry expected to see was a knitting lesson, but there he found it. Amy was in the first quarter of a Gryffindor scarf, thicker and more luxurious than school issure, finishing off a row without looking at it while she studied the motion of Ginny's needles; she appeared to be starting a scarf of her own, this one out of yarn that moved through multiple shades of yellow. Hermione was working on - well, something. Either she was too close to just beginning it, or this was the first lesson, as Harry couldn't tell.  
  
Amy spotted him lingering in the doorway and grinned. "You can come in; I won't force you to join."  
  
"Oh, come in, Harry," Hermione said, face lit with SPEW fervor, this time for real. "What do you think of this sweater? I've only started." She held up the red bit she had done and - if he squinted - Harry thought he could make out a bit of a pattern.  
  
"Erm - given up on scarves, socks, and hats then?" he asked hesitantly, lowering himself into an armchair as if it might bite or, worse, cause him to grab a pair of needles and a skein of particularly ugly green yarn and begin a dishcloth or something.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Dobby doesn't need any more of those, I could tell, but he doesn't have much in the way of shirts."  
  
"These are . . . er . . . all for Dobby, then? The new ones you're making." He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous action he couldn't help connect to Snape's memory of his father, but there were no girls by the lake for Harry to impress.  
  
"And Winky, yes." Hermione frowned at the pattern.  
  
"Purl two now," Amy supplied. "Then the pattern starts all over again, remember?" She reached the end of a row and quickly counted stitches.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Thanks." The tip of her tongue stuck out at the corner of her mouth as she did as directed.  
  
Ginny made a noise in the back of her throat, staring at what she had done with distaste. "Problem?" Harry asked, though it was obvious.  
  
"I dropped a stitch," she complained, looking hopefully at Amy, who set her scarf aside and reached out for Ginny's, undoing a row or two before she could get it right and handing it back.  
  
Harry frowned slightly, noticing the hint of something. "Is somebody wearing perfume?" he asked, looking around.  
  
Hermione blushed. "I am. I used up my old scent and I'm wearing the stuff Ron got me for Christmas. Why, don't you like it?"  
  
"No, it's just - I thought something smelled different, is all." He shrugged, feeling like he had absolutely nothing to do with his hands - which, in fact, he didn't.  
  
"She's trying to see if Ron notices, but I think he's a bit dense," Ginny said matter-of-factly, content now that she had all her stitches back. "I mean, Christmas was forever ago -"  
  
"Tell me about it," Amy muttered.  
  
"- and she hasn't worn it until now, though I think it's rather nice, something wild-flowery." She looked up quickly over her clicking needles to smile at Hermione. "Better than that old stuff, you must admit. You could barely tell you were wearing any."  
  
Hermione blushed deeper, the color of Ginny's hair, and was on the way to the red in Amy's scarf. "You know, we can change the subject at any time," she said hastily, more to the couple centimeters of sweater than to anyone in the room.  
  
Amy glanced up at the grandfather clock. "Hermione, it's time - almost time for dinner. Why don't you girls go put your knitting away and head downstairs? I'm sure Molly will want to give some reason for Tonks not to set the table." They exchanged grins, though Harry decided to tail Hermione and Ginny than stay in the room with Amy.  
  
"Just a minute, Harry," Hermione said as she went into their room, the door closed enough so that he couldn't see inside. Harry rolled his eyes. Girls: not only did they do everything in pairs, they made sure you couldn't get a glimpse of it, even if it was just - oh, the horror! - an unmade bed. But they were out soon enough, and they all trooped downstairs and into the kitchen, being swooped up in the flurry of activity, Mrs. Weasley and Tonks handling the silverware, the twins bewitching the plates to fly into their designated spots on the table under their mother's watchful eye, Mr. Weasley overseeing the cooking of dinner with Bill's help, and Ron already sitting at the table, looking rather useless. They had just begun to make their way over to him when the door banged open and someone clattered down the stairs, still taking off his traveling cloak and brushing the rain- soaked hair from his eyes.  
  
"Molly," Professor Lupin said, draping the cloak on a hook by the stove to dry, "Severus took over for me, said I was needed urgently back here."  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked neither surprised nor overly concerned. "Tonks, would you call the others down for dinner?" she asked, taking the last bit of silverware.  
  
"Sure," Tonks said, knocking over the salt shaker on her way. The top had been loose and came off, sending a stream of white crystals across the table, but George swept it up quickly before she could start to apologize. Shrugging, she took the stairs two at a time, stuck her head out the door, and yelled, "Dinner!" Harry distinctly heard Mrs. Weasley mutter, "I could have done that myself," before helping her husband get dinner on the table.  
  
Harry and Ron shared a puzzled look, wondering why no one had immediately taken Lupin from the room and explained whatever had caused Snape to take his place right away. Instead, Charlie and Amy came down the stairs. "We'll need to stock up on burn creams," Amy was saying.  
  
"No, it's not that bad with a properly trained dragon," Charlie insisted. They saw his feet first and then the rest of him gradually appeared as he came down the stairs, halfway turned around to continue the conversation. "We've had this one since it was quite young, so we should be all right."  
  
"If you insist," Amy said, sweeping the hair out of her eyes again as it was sticking to her forehead in the humidity. "I still think -"  
  
"Amy." Lupin was looking at her, more than slightly shocked, his voice hoarser than usual. "Amy." He took a step toward her, not daring to believe that she was standing right there in front of him.  
  
"Remus Lupin." Amy, who had stopped on the second-to-last step, unfroze and, a smile leaping to her face, practically shoved Charlie out of the way to leap into Lupin's arms, where they shared a kiss that would have put Roger Davies and his girlfriend to shame. Harry realized he was staring when Hermione nudged him.  
  
"They haven't seen each other since Christmas," she said in a low voice.  
  
"What about Easter?" Ron asked, eyes still glued on the pair.  
  
"She only saw Sirius then," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "And it was only a couple of hours, anyway."  
  
Amy and Lupin drew apart to draw breath and she reached up to touch his cheek and brush at his hair, still not quite sure he was real, even though she had been kissing him for quite long enough to know. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be days, wouldn't get here before I had to leave . . ."  
  
"Severus took over for me. Said I was needed here." Lupin raised an eyebrow at that.  
  
Amy hugged him tightly, tucking herself under his chin. "Remind me to thank him. Chocolates, the rich, expensive kind you have to pick out one at a time to put in the little gold box."  
  
"If I must."  
  
"Yeah, I think he kinda deserves it."  
  
Harry tore his eyes away from them, mind whirling - what about Amy and Snape? Lupin was taking this all quite well, considering it had been that man's design to get him there - and saw that Tonks and Charlie were grinning at each other, his hand on top of hers on the table. This was turning into that coffee shop last Valentines Day. He was almost afraid to look at anyone else, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were dishing out the stew and passing around the cornbread. "Come on, while it's still hot!" she said briskly. Amy grinned sheepishly as she and Lupin took the two empty seats.  
  
"Was it a good trip, Remus?" Tonks asked, though her eyes were focused on her aunt. Clearly, if Amy was going to threaten Tonks with Charlie, she was going to threaten her aunt with Lupin.  
  
"Horrible. Rain the whole way. Dumbledore didn't want us using magic, considering - you know." He hastily broke off, noticing Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.  
  
"But you made it safe and sound in spite of it all," Mrs. Weasley said as if nothing had been edited, peaking the interest of the four Hogwarts students. Rain the entire way constituted an "in spite of it all"? Hardly, but she did not seem to realize she was giving out tantalizing hints.  
  
Harry caught Lupin glancing at Amy. She looked as if the smile on her face was a bit forced, and Lupin gave her shoulders a squeeze. "It's not worth it," he said softly.  
  
"Oh, isn't it?" Her eyes flashed defiantly as she lay down her spoon. "Just think, if you had given him a little more information last year . . ." Her voice was soft, but could have drilled a hole in a cement wall. Conversations were growing up around them, but Harry ignored these, as this seemed to be more important.  
  
"Ames, Dumbledore already said he's learned his lesson."  
  
"It's not just him, Remus. He's not a child anymore. Less than a year and he'll be able to do magic outside of school, much less make decisions for himself. I've seen enough to think he's ready now."  
  
"It's not wise to pick fights within us," he said uneasily, glancing around the table. Sure enough, Mrs. Weasley was eyeing them suspiciously, though she turned back to Charlie as if nothing had been noticed. "That's what Voldemort wants, divisions."  
  
"And he delights in the uninformed," she added, picking up her spoon again and continuing to eat. "I just think there's more we should be doing, is all."  
  
"If you don't watch out, you're going to be accused of being Sirius," he warned her.  
  
Amy's eyes flashed. "No one can take his place. But maybe I ought to start trying."  
  
Harry felt something cold settle into the pit of his stomach despite the heat of the food he shoveled down quickly to avoid having to speak or look at anyone. After desert, he claimed fatigue and retreated to the room he shared with Ron, changing into his pajamas and sitting on top of the rumpled bedclothes. Amy, try to replace Sirius? She couldn't. how could she even think . . . how could she . . . didn't she realize . . . wasn't this just as hard for her as it was for him? Replace Sirius? She'd gotten it right the first time: no one could take his place. What was to be gained by trying?  
  
When he heard footsteps outside an hour or so later, Harry hurriedly slipped between the covers, rolled over to face the wall, and pretended to be asleep. Replace Sirius. Hah. Like anyone who would cheat on Snape with Lupin . . . ugh, what was he saying? But that was true, wasn't it? Even if she hadn't kissed Snape like that - who'd want to? - she was still playing one of them for a sap. Right?  
  
Harry wished desperately for the potion Madam Pomfrey had given him after the third Tri-Wizard task, the one that gave him immediate, dreamless sleep. As it was, even the stupid yoga mind techniques did nothing to help him - he kept connecting them with Amy.  
  
It was a long, long time before his eyes closed in slumber.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Hermione looked at him over clicking needles. "Harry, what's wrong? You haven't said a word all day."  
  
He made a noise in the back of his throat, having read the same line in Quidditch Through the Ages about seven times and only gotten a few words here and there.  
  
"Well, he's not speaking, so we might as well start a new topic," Ginny said, mildly ticked off at her scarf. "Did you hear Mum and Amy this morning?"  
  
"Talk about loud!" Ron said, looking amazed that Amy's volume was steady competition. He actually set down his new edition of the Quibbler, the one that had pages of Chudley Cannon pictures and an article about how their Keeper was actually Peter Pettigrew back from the dead, thinner, and with different hair (thick, brown, and curly). "Man, the Muggles must've heard that one . . ."  
  
This was a surprise to Harry and Hermione. "What are you talking about?" she asked, looking pained as she tried to remember the next stitch sequence in the sweater.  
  
"Oh, you didn't hear it up here?" Ginny said. "They must've put a charm on the kitchen door, it was horrible. I'm surprised Mrs. Black didn't wake up screaming, especially with what Mum was saying."  
  
"Yeah, that's the last thing we need, his mum taking Amy's side," Ron said, looking earnest. "I mean, she's arguing for us, after all, she needs all the help she can get."  
  
Ginny giggled. "Professor Lupin got out of there faster than I thought possible. Didn't want to have to choose sides."  
  
"He's on ours, I'm sure, he just doesn't want to face Mum." Ron grinned, satisfied.  
  
Hermione looked exasperated. "Well, what's this all about? What was your mum saying about Amy?"  
  
"Oh, that . . ." Ginny grinned. "Amy cornered her after breakfast, said something like we've all faced full grown Death Eaters, we should know what's going on, or at least more than we do now."  
  
"Not that she was arguing to get us in the Order, mind," Ron said. "Well, maybe you, Harry; she said you should be told the most, but admitted she might as well tell the three of us, just to keep you from spreading it around secretly." He grinned. "You should've heard her, mate: 'Harry's been through more in sixteen years than most Death Eaters have in their despicable lifetimes!' It was great!"  
  
"What did she call Amy that Mrs. Black wouldn't like?" Hermione was losing patience.  
  
Ginny cast a precautionary glance at Harry. "Don't take this the wrong way, Harry, please, but Mum said 'You're just like Sirius.'"  
  
"Yeah, and Amy shot back, 'No, I'm not, but I'd certainly like to be, thanks.'" Ron laughed. "Mum's so mad, she thought she wouldn't have to argue with anybody about this any more, and then she comes in and starts in on her, saying you're practically an adult."  
  
Harry's mouth went dry and he felt like kicking himself. Well, duh, if he'd even stopped to look at the context it would have been so simple: she wanted to be like Sirius in the essence that she wanted to fight for him to know, to be informed. He wasn't sure whether or not he should start feeling ashamed.  
  
"But that's not all," Ginny said softly.  
  
"Oh, yeah." Ron rumpled his hair, a nervous gesture. "See, Harry, Amy said she wasn't going to say anything, on account that you've got Mum and all, or that she's still pretty well connected to the Dark Side, which is why she didn't come forward earlier, what with Sirius and all . . ."  
  
"Tell me when he starts making sense," Hermione muttered to Ginny.  
  
"Harry, Amy's your godmother," Ginny said promptly.  
  
He blinked. "Hey, wait - there's entirely another thing we haven't even come close to discussing!" Harry sputtered, not wanting to deal with that information right then.  
  
The girls looked puzzled. "What?"  
  
"Hello? Amy and Snape?" Wasn't it rather obvious?  
  
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Harry, it's entirely possible for a girl to be good friends with one guy and in love with another. She and Snape are just friends."  
  
"Oh yeah? What about when she begged him to stay? And when they left - what about then, huh?" He was desperate to keep Amy on the shady side of things, if only because it was easier to hate the person delving into the depths of your brain and reading your thoughts at will. And teaching you yoga. How could he forget that? Without the imminent threat of a curse, that seemed rather sissy and undignified.  
  
Hermione looked at him as though she pitied him greatly. "There's a big difference between a kiss on the cheek and full-out snogging, Harry." She said it gently, as if explaining it to a small - and yet precocious - child. "She and Professor Lupin have been together for ages."  
  
"Since when have you learned all this about her?" he demanded.  
  
"Since we started knitting," Ginny said hastily, casting a glance at Hermione, who tried not to look too relieved. "You know, girl talk and stuff."  
  
Ron made a face, picking up the Quibbler again. "Maybe we should really be glad we don't know all that goes on around here. Honestly, girl talk and stuff? I don't even want to know."  
  
But Harry was not pacified. "Does Professor Lupin know about Snape?" he demanded.  
  
Hermione gave him a look that clearly said "How dense can you get?" "Snape was the one who arranged to get Amy here and then took over for Professor Lupin so they could have time together."  
  
"No, I mean, does he know about Snape," Harry stressed, trying out a few vague hand gestures to get his point across. "How close those two are or whatever."  
  
Ginny sighed and made a face at her scarf. "Harry, weren't you the one who overheard Tonks accusing her aunt of practically the same thing? It's been discussed, been dragged out into the open -"  
  
"That wasn't exactly open," Harry muttered. It was vaguer than his hand gestures has been.  
  
"- and everyone that needs to be OK with it is OK with it," she finished, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she counted her stitches and prepared to attack another row.  
  
"It's supposed to be getting easier, you realize," Hermione said, watching the younger girl struggle. "That's what practice is for."  
  
"Tell that to the scarf," Ginny shot back, though her irritation was too great to be caused entirely by her knitting. "I think I need another knitting lesson."  
  
Hermione groaned. "They're easier on you than they are on me," she said, though the sweater was not exactly knitting itself.  
  
Harry and Ron shared a glance. "Don't look at me, mate," Ron said, flipping a page in the magazine and poking at a picture to wake its occupants up. "Girl stuff. I've five brothers, only one of her."  
  
"More than I have," Harry muttered, turning back to his book. Occlumency was tomorrow night. Should he bring up the godmother-godson thing, or wait and see if she would? But if she was holding back because of Mrs. Weasley . . . well, anything was possible. He sighed, kneading his forehead with the heels of his hands. What I need, he decided, is less mystery, a whole book of answers to all my questions.  
  
Before he went to bed that night, Harry was actually able to step back from the situation enough to have a good laugh at himself. A book of answers to his questions? Hah. Not even magic could do that. Harry caught the dark outline of Phineas in the portrait on the wall, clearly eyeing him and judging whether or not he had gone insane.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry had been debating with himself for half an hour, but it finally popped out just as Amy was preparing to hit him with his first round of Legilimens. "Why didn't you tell me you're my godmother?"  
  
She blinked, lowering her wand out of complete surprise. "Who told you that?"  
  
"Ron and Ginny. They heard their mum yelling at you."  
  
Amy sighed, distractedly finger-combing her hair. "Their mum's the reason I didn't tell you."  
  
"But that doesn't make any sense," Harry insisted. "I mean, she's not going to give you any more say with me than Sirius had."  
  
"But she feels threatened by me," Amy countered. "Sirius wasn't trying to take her place as a mother, and she's afraid I will."  
  
"You can't. Take her place, I mean," Harry added hastily, turning his wand over and over in his fingers.  
  
"Yes, but Molly doesn't realize this." Hitching up her jeans, Amy took a seat on the edge of the table, one leg swinging free while the other kept her form falling off. "You honestly didn't hear? My word, she must've been quick with that charm . . ."  
  
"Ginny - or was it Ron? Someone said Professor Lupin didn't even stay." Harry took a seat on the stairs, still turned to look at her.  
  
She winced slightly. "Yeah, he probably caught her building up to 'I've raised seven children and you have none' argument."  
  
Harry blinked, almost dropping his wand and catching it quickly. "Umm, if it's not too personal - what's that have to do with him? I mean, you're not married or anything . . ." He bit back an, "Are you?"  
  
"No, we're not." Amy sighed, running a hand through her hair. "See, Harry, Molly knows that's a rather tender subject for us, one of the reasons Remus shies away from anything that might lead to discussion of children. I've known since I was eighteen I wasn't destined to be a mother."  
  
"How'd you know that?"  
  
She smiled softly. "I fell in love with Remus. Werewolves can't father children. Not that most of them even find them a position to consider it, mind, but still . . ."  
  
OK, now that was straying a bit close to things he didn't need to know. "How'd you meet Professor Lupin?" That seemed safe.  
  
Amy considered something a moment. "Have you been having any bad dreams lately? Scar paining you at all?"  
  
"Uh . . . no."  
  
"Don't look at me like I'm crazy, I just wanted to make sure you could skive off a lesson without getting me burned for it later," she said, hopping off the table and retrieving something out of the cupboard that held the dishes, something that looked like a bowl covered in strange runes. Putting her wand to her temple, Amy removed a few strands of memory and added them to the glowing silver liquid already there. "D'you think you'll be able to use this with permission?" she asked, turning away from the Pensieve with a smile glimmering in her eyes.  
  
Harry grimaced slightly. "I dunno, after that last time I'm not all too keen to go diving in again."  
  
"Aw, come on, I promise not to throw jars of pickled frogs' liver at you." Amy grabbed his wrist with her free hand, poking the mixture with he wand and then dipping her head in until her nose touched it.  
  
The world was swirling around Harry, though all he could feel was Amy's hand keeping him with her as they flew. When she silvery smoke cleared they were in a dimly lit room, probably an attic room, Harry thought, and there was a girl curled up in a blanket in the window seat, reading a large and imposing book by an electric lantern strung up over her head. She had long black hair and thick bangs, both of which showed a slight hint of a curl, and she wore glasses with thick black rims. Her lips moved as she dragged a finger along the page, reading.  
  
"And you wondered why I let my nose stay broken," the present-day Amy muttered. "Though I'd forgotten about the glasses."  
  
"When are we?" Harry asked, looking around the room with curiosity. There was a mattress on the floor in the corner, surrounded by spell books and pots of ink, some with quills still in them. Rolls of parchment littered the wooden floor, though the oval braided rug was clear from any scraps, presumably another favorite place to sit as a desk lamp was perched on its edge.  
  
"Summer after I graduated. I'm studying for Healer training. School Healers have it the worst; we have to know everything equally well. Normal training's two years, I had four, and they considered me quick." She pulled a face. "Maybe I started the memory too early. No, wait -" Amy paused. "He's coming."  
  
Harry was just about to ask "Who?" when the footsteps on the stairs grew louder and the door banged open, revealing a young and beaming Sirius with short hair. If Amy had just graduated, she was in the neighborhood of eighteen, which meant Sirius was twenty-two. "Ames, he's here!" Sirius said, bounding across the room to pull the book from her hands.  
  
"Wait - no - Sirius, I'm studying!" Amy cried as notes slipped out from between the pages. "Hey - give that back!"  
  
Sirius danced out of her reach. "Harry James Potter!"  
  
"What?" Harry had actually spoken aloud before he realized it must be July 31. They were talking about him, and he was just born.  
  
Amy stopped chasing after the scraps of parchment and brushed her bangs away to look up at him. "You're joking. They didn't name him something horrible? And when I say that, I mean something you suggested," she said, grabbing her book back and throwing it on the window seat. "Come on, if they've told you we can go - grab the Floo Powder -"  
  
"Got it!" Sirius shoved some from his pocket into her hand.  
  
Amy gave him a withering look. "Sirius, it's never going to all come out of there, you'll be wearing those jeans and walking into fires and you're bottom half'll whip away before you've dropped enough powder for your top."  
  
"That's what Healers like you are for, Ames. Come on! St. Mungo's!" Sirius called, having conjured up a fire in the dark fireplace while Amy was complaining about his jeans. Sighing, Amy stepped in.  
  
"Hold on, this gets freaky," the present-day Amy said, grabbing Harry's hand again. Indeed, Floo Powder in real life was a bit of a strange trip, but in a memory the colors whirled around them and they were belched out of the St. Mungo's fireplace with even less ceremony, almost tumbling to the ground. "C'mon, we've got to keep up," Amy said, grabbing his wrist again. "Seriously, we could've won a marathon that night." They took off down the hallway and up the stairs, following Amy and Sirius.  
  
"Here," Sirius said, grabbing the young Amy's hand as they reached a room. "Come on - we're godparents!"  
  
Harry stopped watching his godfather when they went into the hospital room and James grabbed Amy and Sirius in an enthusiastic hug, knocking his glasses askew. "He's perfect!" James said, shoving them back up on his nose and hurrying the newly arrived pair to Lily's bedside.  
  
Harry's mum was glowing, looking exhausted as her hair lay fanned out limply on the pillow, but she was radiant. "He's asleep," she whispered, passing the small bundle that was her son to Amy.  
  
Amy looked down on him with perfect joy on her face. "Oh, Lil, he looks like he's going to be a stud like James!"  
  
Lily laughed as her husband took her hand and kissed it fondly. "He certainly has his father's appetite."  
  
Sirius peered over his sister's shoulder at the sleeping baby. "He's so tiny."  
  
"D'you want to hold him?" Amy offered, turning to him.  
  
Sirius held up his hands, backing away and looking a bit scared at the thought. "No, I'd drop him."  
  
"You wouldn't, because then I'd kill you," James said, but his grin was fixed on his son.  
  
"That's about all that happened that night," the present day Amy said, and the voices seemed to fade in volume. "I just thought you'd want to see that." She wasn't looking at him, focusing instead on her memory of Sirius.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said, looking at his parents. "She really loved him, right?" Snape's memory from this same Pensieve was still haunting him.  
  
"Lily and James? Absolutely." Amy smiled fondly at the woman who had chosen her as godmother. "Said James was exasperating at times, but loved him more than anything. Those two . . . when they weren't holding hands, he was always scanning the room for her like she'd get lost or something, and she always winked at him when he looked so relieved to see her again."  
  
The scene swirled and when it had calmed they were in the same room, but the sun was high overhead. "This is the next day," Amy provided. She and Sirius were there, and Lily was sitting in the armchair, holding baby Harry, whose eyes were opened. "This is when Remus realized I existed."  
  
The sound came back on when she had finished speaking and the door to the room banged open, showing a slightly pink Wormtail holding a bouquet of flowers, followed by a young Lupin. Because he had no fond feelings for the other man, Harry studied his old professor. His hair was in need of cutting, brushing the collar of his shirt, but he looked fine and healthy, so the full moon must have been some days away. "Congratulations," Wormtail squeaked, holding out the flowers like a shield.  
  
Lily laughed, allowing James to take them and conjure up a vase. "Thanks, Peter. This is Harry."  
  
Harry - the baby - regarded the newcomer with wide eyes.  
  
"How are you, Lily?" Lupin asked, smiling and sliding his finger into Harry's little hand, laughing when Harry gripped it tightly.  
  
"Wonderful," Lily said sincerely.  
  
"As usual," James said affectionately, sitting on the arm of the chair and putting an arm around his wife. Lupin looked slightly sad at this, though Harry now thought it might be because that - even if he ever found a wife - Lupin would not be sharing such a moment with her. Harry could not look at Amy after thinking that.  
  
It was then that Wormtail noticed the other two. "Hi, Sirius," he piped up, looking almost surprised to see him.  
  
"Sirius's godfather, of course," James supplied, "and this is Amy - you've met her before, haven't you, Wormtail? She's godmother."  
  
"Yeah, we've met," Amy said, shaking his hand.  
  
Remus had stopped looking at Harry and was staring at Amy. Granted, she was wearing contacts and had brushed her hair to a shine, but he seemed to think she had just descended from heaven for a bit of fun. "You were fourteen then," he said, his voice slightly hoarse, though not from the battering of years.  
  
The young Amy nervously rubbed her nose, no doubt remembering how it had looked the last time he had seen her. "Yeah. Yeah, I was."  
  
There was a moment of silence, James and Lily sharing a wink, Peter looking as if nothing were going on, and Sirius trying to figure out exactly what Lupin saw in his little sister.  
  
Lupin finally cleared his throat. "D'you want to go get a cup of tea?"  
  
Amy blushed, not looking at the others. "Sure."  
  
They walked out of the room together, and, as the vision faded, Harry distinctly head Sirius say, "Sure, Moony, I'd love something to drink, let me come with you."  
  
The colors swirled more violently than before and, when things finally stopped spinning, Harry was back on the floor of the kitchen, blinking and trying to make sure his head was on straight. "He asked you for tea?" he finally managed, climbing to his feet.  
  
Amy looked up from transferring the memories back into her head. "Yeah. Tea, at St. Mungo's. Wild first date, huh?" She grinned. "Oh, well. Whatever works."  
  
Harry hesitated a moment. "Thanks," he said finally. "For showing me that."  
  
She smiled at him, a real, pure smile. "My pleasure. Now, run along - I'm sure it's late."  
  
Harry was in bed and almost asleep before he realized that seeing Sirius like that hadn't brought on any of the usual, painful symptoms. He had only felt happy to see him, happy to see him happy. Wondering slightly at that, Harry drifted off to sleep, wondering if maybe he had been wrong about Amy, after all. When Ron started snoring five minutes later, he was in the middle of a nice dream and didn't even twitch.  
  
* * * * *  
  
August 29 came in and saw number twelve, Grimmauld Place full with activity as Amy had to be off to Hogwarts to settle in before the students arrived. Amy was sure she was going to leave something behind, running up and down the stairs with a checklist in hand and staring nervously at her trunk and duffle bag by the door, traveling cloak slung over them both. Hermione came down. "I checked your room, you've left nothing there," she said, slightly out of breath.  
  
Amy shook her head. "There's something wrong here, I just know it."  
  
"You know, you always feel that way when you're doing something you're not entirely sure you want to do," Professor Lupin said, coming out of the den and leaning on the railing up above to look down at them as Harry joined Hermione in sitting, taking the step three beneath hers. "And there's nothing in there hat you've forgot, unless you dropped a Galleon between the couch cushions."  
  
"Nothing down here," Ginny called as she and Ron came up out of the kitchen.  
  
Amy looked rather pained, trying to think. "I got the Pensieve, Dumbledore'd give me one of those looks if I left it . . . Does anyone have a Remembrall? I could really use one . . ."  
  
"Nothing in the attic," Tonks called, having joined Lupin at the first floor railing. "Well, actually there's a ton in the attic, and a couple boxes with your name on them, but they're old cloths and stuff, utterly horrible. You really don't have any fashion sense, you know."  
  
"We've checked everywhere," Mrs. Weasley assured her, coming out of the door to the sitting room on the ground floor, wiping her hands on her apron. "Listen, Charlie's already gone, why don't you go ahead and we'll send anything along as we find it?"  
  
Harry moved aside as Professor Lupin came down the stairs. They were all in place, all trying to hide secretive smiles and giggles about what they knew was about to unfold. Ginny and Hermione had almost fainted with delight when the plan was presented, causing Ron to roll his eyes and mutter "Girls," but he had to admit, he didn't want to miss it. Harry had been afraid she'd somehow drag it out of him during an Occlumency lesson, but their next one was set up for the hospital wing on September 3, so they were safe there.  
  
Amy turned to her trunk, moving the cloak slightly and laughing as she finally caught sight of what was bothering her, a black briefcase that said, in silver letters, LUPIN. "Remus, what's that doing here?" she asked, straightening up with her hand on her hip.  
  
"Oh, it's for you. Chocolates, the rich, expensive kind you have to pick out one at a time to put in the little gold box. Two boxes, actually, one for you and one for Severus." He was grinning as he said it, especially when she laughed again and hugged him impulsively.  
  
"Remus, that's sweet!"  
  
"They're identical," he added. "So you won't go picking through his and take all the ones you like before you give them to him."  
  
Harry tried to be patient as Amy kissed Professor Lupin, turning around to look up at Hermione, but she was gazing at them and looking a bit misty- eyed.  
  
"But I can put those in my trunk, no problem," Amy said when she pulled away. "There's room, you can have your briefcase back."  
  
"Oh, but I don't think that's mine," he said airily."  
  
Harry sat up. Finally, he thought. He couldn't see how Professor Lupin was standing this. Then again, he'd already confessed to putting this off too long already, but still.  
  
"Of course it is," Amy said, laughing again. "Look at it." She pulled her cloak aside, not really reading the letters as she thought she knew that they'd say. "See, right there -" The sight brought her up short. Tonks was leaning over the railing so far Harry was afraid she'd fall, landing on her hot-pink head and just barely missing Mrs. Weasley, who had the corner of her apron poised near her eye, in case she needed it. Amy finally found her voice. "It says AMY B LUPIN."  
  
"It does, doesn't it?" Remus said, bending to pick it up. "And I might not have been entirely correct when I told you what was in it." He balanced the briefcase on the railing post at the bottom of the stairs, clicking both silver latches to open it, revealing the two gold boxes as advertised - and a small black velvet box. "Amy," Professor Lupin said, taking the box, turning around, and kneeling before her as he opened it, "will you marry me?"  
  
Does he even need to ask? Harry thought as Amy clapped a hand to her mouth, completely shocked. "Did you - all of you -" she looked around to where they were all posed, Hermione almost biting her fingernails, Ginny hugging herself happily, Tonks gripping the railing with white knuckles, Mrs. Weasley putting her apron to use, and Ron and Harry looking like complete guys and just mentally wiling her to tell Lupin Yes. "You had this all planned?"  
  
Lupin grinned at her. "So you couldn't say no."  
  
Amy laughed again, looking close to tears herself. "I'd never say no, Remus Lupin. Of course I'll be your wife." He barely had the ring on her finger before she grabbed his collar and "made" him kiss her.  
  
Later, up in the den, Ron leaned close to Harry so the girls wouldn't hear him whisper, "Thought she'd never get out of there, they were stuck together so tightly."  
  
Harry hid his smile behind his hand, making sure Ginny and Hermione were chatting animatedly about how romantic it was, how special and all that as they continued to knit with their usual winces and mutterings as they struggled through. "Did you see Tonks? Thought she'd jump off, sure as anything."  
  
"And Mum." Ron rolled his eyes. "She'll tear up at anything these days, honestly."  
  
Harry nudged his pawn forward a space, trying not to look as though he was having trouble figuring out how best to pummel Ron. "She seemed to like it, though. Amy, I mean."  
  
"Of course she liked it," Hermione said, exasperated. "They've been together sixteen years, why not make it a permanent thing? And it was so romantic, so unexpected . . ."  
  
"I would've found it more unexpected had Professor Lupin said, 'Find a way to get into the entryway right before Amy leaves, I'm proposing,'" Ron said helpfully, crushing Harry's bishop with his knight and earning himself a rap in the head with a knitting needle. "Hey!" he complained, eyes watering as he rubbed his noggin. "What was that for?"  
  
"For being completely insensitive," Hermione sniffed. "It was wonderful, and beautiful, and Amy had no idea that it was happening."  
  
"Oh, come on," Harry said, not willing to go that far, brave enough to say something because Hermione was too far away to reach him. "They must've discussed marriage at least some before he did that."  
  
"Not for a few years," Ginny said. "They loosely agreed that it would be easiest on her to keep up her little charade if she wasn't married to an obvious good guy, and a werewolf at that."  
  
"When she says that, she means Professor Lupin said it, and Amy grudgingly agreed," Hermione clarified. "I mean, listening to her those two've been a sure thing for ages."  
  
"Sixteen years," Harry said distractedly. He was running out of time to make a spectacular kill, though his remaining knight was rather willing to go kamikaze and kept telling him what to do. "They had their first date the day after I was born."  
  
Ron blinked. "Hey, mate, they haven't roped you into knitting or anything, have they?"  
  
Harry shook his head, aware Hermione and Ginny were interested. He hadn't said a word about that particular Pensieve experience, mostly because he wanted to treasure it to himself, keep it as a nice warm secret to take out and examine when things looked a bit bleak. "Occlumency lesson," he said vaguely, hoping they would assume it had something to do with him blocking the curse and reading her mind instead of the other way around.  
  
It worked. Three seconds later the girls were on to discussing the perfect wedding dress for Amy. Three minutes later - Harry was surprised it had taken that long - Ron had slaughtered him and the pieces were on their way to mending to they could play again. It was only in bed later that night, in a passing thought, that Harry wondered what Snape would say when he saw the diamond ring on Amy's finger. Picturing the expression on the Potions professor's face, he smiled and fell into a peaceful sleep, one that ended in a fall into a shadowy place that was vaguely familiar and rather comforting before the dream shifted into something involving flying pigs, fireworks, and wigs made out of sawdust, the usual nonsense not remembered upon waking the next morning. 


	4. Chapter Four

Full guard was a bit trickier on September 1, both Moody and Tonks having left for Hogwarts on the same day as Amy and Charlie. As most of the members of the Order were working, Harry made the walk to King's Cross Station with Professor Lupin ahead of him and Mr. Weasley behind, Mrs. Weasley bringing up the rear with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, the twins and Bill having had to be at work in Diagon Alley and having bade them good-bye the night before.  
  
Although they arrived in good time, most of the compartments on the train were full, and Harry turned to Ginny. "Come on, let's go save seats for Ron and Hermione."  
  
Ginny shifted her weight, holding an owl cage under her arm - a recent gift from her parents. "Harry, don't you remember? I'm Prefect, too." She gave the cage a little shake, upsetting the barn owl - Wallace - inside.  
  
Harry blinked. "Well, erm - I'll . . . I'll get a compartment, then."  
  
"We won't be long, mate," Ron said earnestly. "Remember last year."  
  
Harry gave them a half-hearted wave before making his way back along the train, looking in compartments, ducking out of the way as Cho glanced up, finally finding the last empty compartment on the train, trying not to throw Hedwig's cage into the racks with too much frustration as she hadn't abandoned him.  
  
"Harry!" Neville appeared in the doorway, looking flushed, but his face was not as round as it had been the year before and he was a couple inches taller. "D'you mind if I sit here?"  
  
"Please," Harry said, amazingly grateful for the company of a boy he had not yet thought to consider as a friend, despite the previous year's happenings in the Department of Mysteries. "I s'pose Luna found somewhere else to sit, then?" he asked, grinning.  
  
"Saw her on the platform," Neville said, taking a seat and clutching his beloved plant [someone borrowed the book, forgot the name, any help would be appreciated]. "She's Prefect for Ravenclaw, told me about seven times before I got away."  
  
Harry only grinned again. That sounded like Luna.  
  
The four of them - Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Luna Lovegood - appeared just after the cart of sweets had been through and Neville and Harry were making a dent in the mountain they had purchased. "Well, you'll be happy to know our good buddy Malfoy still wants to kill you," Ron sighed, sinking into the seat next to Harry and nicking a Chocolate Frog, getting it down in two bites and only giving the wizard card a casual glance afterward, right before he reached for another.  
  
Ginny laughed, she and Luna filling up Neville's side of the compartment. "You should hear him, honestly!" She had to disappear behind her hands, she was giggling so much.  
  
Hermione leaned around Ron to grin at Harry. "'You tell Potter to just wait. My aunt's here this year, not very understanding of poor Muggle- borns. Just wait till I hex you bad enough for the hospital wing . . .'"  
  
Harry blinked. "She is his aunt, isn't she?"  
  
"Wouldn't remind her of it, Amy seems rather content in forgetting," Ginny said.  
  
Neville looked puzzled. "Who are you talking about?"  
  
Harry launched into a pseudo-explanation of who Amy was, leaving out the Snape factor, but mentioning she was also Sirius's sister. Sort of. By the time he'd lurched through the family tree, Neville looked sorry he'd asked.  
  
Luna, who had pulled out a copy of the Quibbler, of which her father was the editor, put it down low enough to look at Harry. "So it's like her sister, who she pretended to like but really didn't, killed her brother, who she pretended to hate but really loved best."  
  
After he'd uncrossed his eyes, Harry had to agree.  
  
The bright sunny fields outside gradually faded with the onset of night, though the sparks from the Exploding Snape game they were playing seemed rather spectacular with such a gloomy background. Finally they all changed into their school robes, Ginny admiring her new badge while Ron pinned on his like it was more of a curse than a blessing. Luna put hers on upside- down before Neville hesitatingly pointed it out. When the train slowed to a stop, Harry and Neville had to figure out how to carry Pig, Crookshanks, Hedwig, Wallace, and [the plant] while the Prefects went out and made sure the first years were herded properly into the boats. About the only thing that made carrying so many cages worth it was the familiar sound of Hagrid calling, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! Firs' years this way! How are yeh, Harry?" The giant man looked down on him, beetle black eyes sparkling merrily.  
  
"Just fine, Hagrid!" he called back, allowing the crowds to push him toward the carriages, this time not all that concerned with the presence of the dark, dragon-esque Thestrals as he and Neville loaded the animals inside and called the others over to climb in for the ride to the castle. As it was too dark to read, Luna satisfied herself with fixing a dreamy smile on Ron, who was sitting across from her and trying to politely ignore it.  
  
The students trooped into the castle, voices echoing off the high ceilings as they caught each other up on the past summer's adventures, what their dads had to say about the escapes Death Eaters, and greeted Harry with more warmth than he had been given in a long time. He grinned and waved, not even knowing enough names to say a proper "Hello" back.  
  
Harry was almost into the great Hall - he could see the star-speckled ceiling - when a cold voice spoke behind them. "Mr. Potter."  
  
Ron winced, not turning around. "We'll save you a seat," he whispered as Harry extricated himself from the masses and forced himself to look up at Snape.  
  
"You will come with me," the professor said silkily, though "greasily" would have better matched his hair, which was looking a bit less cared-for than usual.  
  
Harry gulped and followed. Anything that made Snape smile sinisterly was not going to be fun for him. Having no inkling as to where they were going or why, Harry tailed the billowing black robes up the stairs, down a hall, though a room he was quite sure he hadn't seen before, and stopped before a door, knocking sharply. The voices inside died and, after a pause, someone opened the door a crack, then pulled it further, revealing Tonks looking like herself with pink spiky hair. "Hey, it's Harry. C'mon in," she said, beckoning him inside, and Snape followed.  
  
Mad-Eye Moody, Charlie, and Amy were grouped around a table, looking at the parchment in Amy's hand. "Hello, Potter," Moody growled. "Welcome to the new residence of Hogwarts' Aurors. We have something we think you should know."  
  
Amy rolled her eyes. "It's more annoying than dangerous, don't listen to him." She was wearing a jade green robe that almost glimmered in the candlelight, accented by the white apron, cuffs, and collar that specified her as Healer. "Basically my brother-in-law, Lucius" - she made a face as if even his name tasted terrible - "has informed me that his son will be trying to, shall we say, recruit you this year, and to help Draco along if possible. There guys" - she nodded to Moody and Tonks - "seem to think that's more danger than annoyance, but I can't say they know my nephew very well if they think that."  
  
Harry frowned. Granted, the way it was worded on the train, Amy was going to be the one to make him pay, but still . . . not that Draco would be very good at being nice. "You called me up here to tell me that? I'm missing a good Sorting Song for this!" He grinned to show he was kidding.  
  
Moody stood and clumped around to where Harry was. "Listen, Potter: even the most innocent thing can get you someplace you don't want to be. The wrong word, the wrong look . . . you have to know where you can find us. And remember that we're all here to help." His electric blue eye swiveled around in his head, undoubtedly looking at Snape. "Anything suspicious, anything out-of-the-ordinary, anything that seems a little off, you tell us. Dumbledore's orders."  
  
Tonks cleared her throat. "Well, you done lecturing him yet, Mad-Eye? 'Cause I'm starving."  
  
Moody shot her a glare that did nothing to remove the smile from her face. "Well, then. To the feast." He fondly patted his hip flask. "And Potter - constant vigilance!"  
  
Harry winced slightly as Moody past, back to remembering a time when Moody was not Moody at all. But that trick had been done and had failed, right? So he was really Moody this time, right? He caught Amy's eye and smiled, especially when she grabbed his arm. "Point out that trick step to me again, would you? I keep missing it, Sev's getting sick of pulling me out."  
  
Harry laughed. "See, that's why you should have gone to Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang. Disappearing doors, trick steps . . . how many times have you gotten lost already?"  
  
"Don't ask," she muttered. And she did manage to jump the trick step on the way down.  
  
The food had already appeared when Harry arrived, taking a seat between Ron and Ginny. "What was that about?" Ginny asked, heaping his plate with steak and kidney pie.  
  
"Nothing much," Harry said truthfully, scanning the Head Table. Amy was sitting between Snape and Tonks, and Mad-Eye Moody was on the young Auror's other side. Further down at the other end of the table was a wizard in blue robes, presumably the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was talking animatedly with Professor Sprout, a smile on his face. The man appeared to be tall, broad in the shoulder, and his hair was black but sprinkled with gray, the whole effect something along the lines of a young grandfather. "Who's that?" Harry asked, gesturing with his goblet of pumpkin juice.  
  
"No idea, mate," Ron said, "but he looks like an improvement over Umbridge, don't you think?"  
  
"They haven't been introduced yet," Ginny supplied.  
  
After even the desserts had been polished away, Dumbledore stood and the Great Hall grew silent. "And now, some introductions. As many of you may already know, Madam Pomfrey was offered a respected position at St. Mungo's Hospital. Therefore, our new school Healer is Madam Amy." Harry clapped loudly as Amy stood and nodded a greeting, though he noticed that she received a rather large round from Slytherin, as well. "And our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Tobias." The man stood up, towering over tiny Professor Flitwick on his left, and waved jovially to the students.  
  
"Now," Dumbledore said, adjusting his half-moon spectacles on his crooked nose, "in light of recent events, Hogwarts has taken two extra security measures. One, we now have a dragon by the front gates, to be handled by a graduate of this school, Charlie Weasley." Harry wondered why he had not seen Charlie earlier, but his question was answered when the young man leaned out from around Hagrid to wave. "And, on orders from the Minister, we have two Aurors: Alistair Moody and Nymphadora Tonks." As he gathered breath to move on to the rest of his speech, Tonks let out a little hem, hem that caused six-sevenths of the hall to freeze, look around uneasily, and then laugh long and hard.  
  
"And now," Dumbledore said when everyone had finally managed to get under control, wiping tears from his eyes, "Argus Filch wishes to remind you that a complete list of items banned from this school is available in his office, though he was suggested tattooing it to the inside of certain students' eyelids. The Forest is off-limits - I daresay I might have to use his idea for this one" - Harry, Ron, and Hermione all shared a grimace - "but, that is all! Off to bed!"  
  
Harry let the Prefects get away and direct the First Years up to Gryffindor Tower, getting close enough to hear the password - "Mugmump mentalis" - and then going up the stairs to his dormitory. Seamus and Dean greeted him with enthusiastic smiles before going back to swapping stories of their summers. Harry just smiled, change into his pajamas, and was asleep before Ron straggle up the stairs, cursing First Years and dung bombs under his breath.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Schedules were distributed over breakfast on Monday morning, and Harry propped his against his goblet of pumpkin juice to study as he spooned oatmeal into his mouth. "Hey, would you look at that!" he exclaimed, gesturing with his spoon.  
  
Ron glanced over to make sure he was thinking the same thing. "Yeah! Wicked, mate." He and Harry began to eat at a more leisurely pace.  
  
"Won't you two hurry up?" Hermione said, grabbing her book bag. "You've class in ten minutes!"  
  
"Sad, isn't it, Harry?" Ron asked, pretending to lean back in an easy chair. "Those poor people who took things like Ancient Runes and Arithmancy and didn't drop a single class . . ."  
  
"Yeah, they still have a class the first thing Monday morning, don't they?" Harry asked lazily, grinning back.  
  
Hermione grabbed one of their schedules just to make sure they weren't lying. "Humph. Well, enjoy your freedom, then. I'll see you in Potions." Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she left.  
  
Harry winced. "You know, it's people like her that really know how to ruin a good mood."  
  
"Yeah." Ron looked slightly sick. "NEWT level Potions, first thing . . . I'm going to get a 'T' right off the bat, I just know it."  
  
"Hey, I was being optimistic," Harry said wistfully. "I was thinking 'D,' at least."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. Slowly the Great Hall became less crowded as most students drifted off to their first class of the new school year, in groups of friends, though Harry spotted Luna drifting off on her own, eyes slightly glazed over. She almost plowed down a bunch of Hufflepuff first years, but they moved out of the way in time to avoid complete disaster.  
  
"Earth to Harry. Come in, Harry." Someone was poking him. "Hey, Monday morning, I can understand." Amy grinned at him, leaning over to pick up his schedule and look it over. "What's gone besides History of Magic?"  
  
"Divination," he informed her, pleased. "No more Professor Trelawney . . ."  
  
"And no more . . . Firenze." She sighed his name, batting her eyes and holding her hands over her heart in a good impression of most fifth and sixth year girls. "Oh, if it wasn't for the centaur part, I'd drop Remus and go for him in a second. Not."  
  
Harry snickered into his hand. "Yeah, that seems to be the general female opinion of him. Just without the 'not' bit."  
  
Amy smiled, handing back his schedule. "Hey, Harry - I was thinking."  
  
"Mite dangerous, isn't it?" Ron asked, pretending to duck a curse.  
  
"Well, you're involved in Quidditch," she continued, ignoring Ron, "and if you want to keep up your DA lessons this year -  
  
"Keep up the DA?" The thought had never occurred to him. "Why, is Professor Tobias just as worthless as Umbridge?"  
  
"Who, Henry? No, he's great. We were actually discussing you last night."  
  
Harry tried not to wince. "Oh?"  
  
"Sure. You know a Patonus is beyond NEWT level, and you were already teaching it to the other students. He and I think it would be all right for you to continue, if you wish, and Dumbledore has agreed, so long as either Henry - 'scuse me, Professor Tobias - or I know when you're practicing, in case you get into a few of the more dicey spells. He's even said he could give you a few pointers on some of the more advanced stuff you haven't gotten into yet, when he's free." She shrugged. "But that wasn't my point. See, with things going on after school, I thought maybe you'd rather devote your currently vacant Monday morning class time to Occlumency and leave after school for fun. What do you think?"  
  
He wilted slightly. "Fine, makes sense and all that."  
  
Amy laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Cheer up. C'mon, let's get started."  
  
She lead him up to the hospital wing, past the beds and their sterile white sheets, behind a tapestry depicting a wizard discovering the healing properties of dragon's blood (labeled "Ugric the Unease's Memorable Death") and through the door. "Welcome to my humble . . . er . . . dwelling," she said, bowing him through and into what was a combination common room and office, a desk in one end and comfy chairs grouped around a fireplace in the other. A further - unconcealed - door lead, Harry supposed, to her bedroom. "D'you want to do this in comfort" - she gestured to the chairs - "or . . . well . . . with a desk for protection?"  
  
"Comfort's fine," Harry said, taking a seat in a maroon velvet chair and fairly sinking into the cushions. "This is amazing. All this, just for being a Healer?"  
  
Amy laughed. "Just?" she asked, drawing her wand out of her apron pocket. "This job can get tough. D'you want to go thought a bit of the yoga experience or just dive right in?"  
  
"Er . . . yoga's fine, really," he said quickly. Anything to delay that first spell was fine with him, especially if she forgot to keep an eye on the clock and had to send him off to Potions without using her wand. Then again, maybe she could excuse him from Potions for extra practice . . . Such - and all - thoughts were slowly seeped out of his mind in the yoga trance. Harry relaxed back into the chair, smiling slightly. Nothing . . . nothing . . . nothing . . . Professor Sprout was unpotting a Mandrake . . . nothing . . . Harry was staring incredulously on the test Professor Lockhart had given them on their first day . . . Professor Grubbly-Plank was showing them a unicorn . . . nothing . . . Hermione screamed as Grawp stood up, straining at the ropes that held him . . . Grawp was towering over them, saving them from unicorns . . . nothing . . . he was flying on the back of a Thestral to save Sirius . . . Sirius . . . Sirius . . .  
  
Harry was on the floor, having fallen out of the chair and landed hard on his knees. Amy was beside him in an instant, helping him to sit again and giving him a Chocolate Frog. "That was good," she said, breathless. "Without even a wand . . . you were harder to track down then, harder to pin your thoughts."  
  
"You didn't warn me," he accused half-heartedly.  
  
"Harry. You were already calm and relaxed. D'you really think Voldemort's going to say, 'Y'know, Harry, before I probe your mind I'd like to try a little something a Muggle thought up . . . care to join me?' Then he'll whip two Yoga mats out of thin air, close his eyes, and say 'Om."  
  
He had to laugh at that, biting the head off his frog. "But - I'm getting better, right?"  
  
She nodded, perching herself on the arm of another chair. "It took longer. You just need to not lose yourself when you're not thinking of anything, and then be able to shove me away completely and without effort. Preferably without even knowing it, just as an instinctive reaction." She checked her watch. "Finish that frog, Harry. You've a class in fifteen minutes."  
  
Harry was in the dungeon two minutes early, taking the empty seat between Ron and Hermione. Hermione sniffed. "Cutting it rather close, aren't you?"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Just got here myself," he muttered.  
  
"I was doing Occlumency," Harry informed her. "Monday mornings, so whoever's Quidditch captain doesn't steam." He didn't mention DA, partially because he didn't want her to give him a withering glance and inform him that they had a proper Cark Arts professor and wouldn't need him anymore. That was when the door banged open and shut again as Snape swooped into the room.  
  
"Your first NEWT level Potions," he said, turning, gaze sweeping and taking in the empty seats. Perhaps sixty percent of the original Double Potions class remained. "I must admit, some of you" - his eyes narrowed on Harry - "must have hoodwinked your testers in some way. No matter. You will stay or leave depending on your work. Instructions on the board." He whipped his wand. "Items in the cupboard. You will not finish today. But you should be - here." Another flick of his wand and a silver line stretched across the instructions. "Begin."  
  
"I'll say we shouldn't finish today," Hermione said, sniffing as though anyone who had that thought would have to be thicker than Crabbe or Goyle, both of whom were in the twenty percent that had not continued. To her dismay, Millicent Bulstrode had. "Just look at the last instruction. Really."  
  
Harry did. Let simmer for a full moon cycle. Thinking that sounded familiar, he finally read the name of the potion they were beginning and could not decide whether to chuckle or wince. Veritaserum. Wonderful. Snape had threatened him with it enough.  
  
"Harry," Hermione hissed. "Come on, this will take the entire class as it is."  
  
An hour and a half later, Snape was walking around, telling them the liquid should be a simmering pale yellow, emitting a few pink sparks. Hermione's was, of course, perfect. Harry's was a bit deeper, but at least his had the sparks, whereas Ron's was just sitting there. "That wasn't so horrible," Hermione said as they washed their hands in the flow of water from the Gargoyle's mouth.  
  
"Sure," Ron muttered. "By the time he can test it, I'll have forgotten what it was and won't mind the 'D'."  
  
Harry just heaped their plates high, praying they wouldn't argue with their mouths full.  
  
The afternoon saw them trooping out to the greenhouses, lining pots with dragon dung for the third years to do some repotting, then back to the castle to wash their hands and attempt to make buttons dance across their desks in a more advanced form of the Locomotive Charm as Professor Flitwick corrected wand movements and subtleties of pronunciation.  
  
"I'm going to hate this year," Ginny said glumly when Harry and Ron sat on either side of her for dinner.  
  
"Oh, it's not nearly as horrible as you think," Hermione said, taking a seat across from the younger girl. "It's really not that difficult."  
  
"Yeah, not if you don't do anything but study," Ron said, tucking in.  
  
After dinner, Professor McGonnagal called to Harry before he could exit the Great Hall. "Potter, your broom's in my office. You'll be wanting it before having tryouts."  
  
He frowned, half-turned. "Professor?"  
  
She smiled at him over her glasses in a way eerily reminiscent of Professor Dumbledore. "You've been the longest on the team, Potter. As Quidditch Captian, you have three Chasers to replace. Though you may want to have a look at those Beaters . . ." She looked slightly pained. "Still, I can't think of anyone better . . . make sure Ginny tries out, would you?"  
  
"Ah - sure. Yes. Of course." He blinked, trying to absorb all of this. He was back on the team. He was Gryffindor's Seeker again. Ginny would definitely try out, she was a good hand at flying, they needed two more . . .  
  
"what's up?" Ron asked when Harry finally exited the Hall.  
  
"Oh, nothing," he said breezily, though his grin gave it away. "Y'know, it was considerate of Amy to save me from being bawled out by the Quidditch Captain, but she needn't have bothered."  
  
Ginny sighed loudly. "Harry, didn't I tell you your 'lifelong ban' only lasted as long as Umbridge was here?"  
  
"You did," he allowed as they started up the main staircase. "It's just - kind of odd for me to bawl myself out, isn't it?"  
  
Her eyes widened. "You're captain?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Name the try-out date. Sometime soon, that works for you. Because then we need to find two other chasers."  
  
She whooped, nearly bowling Hermione over as she ran on ahead. "I've got to tell Charlie!" she called out.  
  
Hermione looked thoughtful. "Chaser, huh? Hmm." She drifted off in a Luna- esque fog.  
  
Ron shared a look with Harry. "Bet Viktor's had some hand in this," he muttered. "Come on, let's play some chess. Loser buys the winner a Butterbeer next Hogsmeade visit."  
  
"You're on," Harry said, racing him to the Fat Lady. Memories of this night would be sure to surface in his next Occlumency lesson, but they would be as useful in attacking as soap bubbles. He grinned to himself as his knight smashed one of Ron's pawns with particular energy. Maybe the key wasn't really to keep his mind blank, but to balance all the horrible things with good things. He'd have to ask Amy about that. For now, he'd just concentrate on getting Ron to owe him a Butterbeer.  
  
* * * *  
  
Defense Against the Dark Arts came on Wednesday, the last class of the day, and everyone was half exited, half apprehensive as they filed into the classroom. In a gesture of defiance they all had their wands prominent on the tops of their desks and no books anywhere in sight. "How d'you think he'll be?" Ron asked Harry, glancing over his shoulder at the classroom door. "Ginny hasn't had him yet, that's tomorrow."  
  
"Not like he could really be worse, is it?" Hermione muttered, eyebrows raised. "Amy speaks highly of him, at least. I had a knitting session last night," she added when Harry and Ron gave her puzzled looks.  
  
"So what, is Professor Tobias from Durmstrang, then?" Harry asked. "I thought they actually taught the Dark Arts, not the defense."  
  
"He spent a few terms there, but he just came from Beauxbatons," she explained. "He took a bash at teaching the Dark Arts, but he left because the kids were too rough. Viktor only had him his first year."  
  
"Viktor," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.  
  
Professor Tobias entered then, saving Harry from having to prevent a spat between his two best friends. "Wands away, please," he said pleasantly, going to the front of the room to stand by his desk.  
  
Everyone shifted nervously. Their professor stopped going through his briefcase and looked up. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Are we actually going to be doing magic in this class this year?" Dean demanded, not raising his hand.  
  
"Not today, no, but later, indeed. What sort of education do you think would be achieved without a wand?"  
  
"Hear, hear!" Seamus called, grinning as he tucked his wand into this pocket.  
  
Professor Tobias smiled. "Yes, I've heard all about your last year, but Outstanding OWLs proved that at least some of you did not let it go to waste." He winked at Harry. "Now, as for this year. Defense Against the Dark Arts, NEWT level, first year. Why are you here?" He spread his hands and sat on the corner of his desk.  
  
Hermione actually blinked a few times before tentatively putting a hand in the air. He nodded at her. "Hermione Granger, is it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Very well. Miss Granger: why are you here?"  
  
"To learn defense against the dark arts," she said slowly, waiting for the trick in the question.  
  
"Yes, but why?" He peered at her openly through his silver spectacles.  
  
Hermione looked around in case someone else wanted to help her. "Erm . . . because Voldemort's back." Lavender shrieked and Parvati jumped slightly in her chair.  
  
Another nod. "That he is, but why are you here?"  
  
Being used to questions that had only one answer, she was getting rather frustrated. "What answer do you want? Because I achieved a decent score on this OWL? Because we all may have to face Death Eaters eventually?"  
  
Professor Tobias looked thoughtful. "It is not my aim," he said slowly, "to teach my students how to duel Death Eaters or even Voldemort himself." He ignored the communal gasp that came with the Dark Lord's name. "I realize that, for four of you, the experience has already been had. Can anyone else answer my question? Why are you here?" He looked around the room. Hermione slumped in her seat, looking dejected and angry that she had failed to answer properly.  
  
Harry tentatively lifted his hand in the air. "Professor? I'm not sure we entirely know what you're asking."  
  
The blue eyes were turned on him. "Harry Potter. You know that the spell Avada Kedavra has only failed to work once since its discovery, and even that one instance involved innocent deaths. What is the point in learning to protect yourself against the Dark Arts if the death spell has no counter curse, no form of protection?  
  
"Because he doesn't always use Avada Kedavra," Harry said seriously. "Neither do his Death Eaters."  
  
"But when they do, there's nothing you can do."  
  
Harry frowned. "But when Professor Dumbledore - I saw them dueling, last - a few months ago. He managed. He's not dead."  
  
Professor Tobias did not make any acknowledgement of this last statement. "Anyone else?"  
  
"I'm here because I want - I think maybe - I - well, some jobs require it," Ron piped up. "Like - like being an Auror." His ears were turning pink then, as if he expected laughter and catcalls at the very thought of him becoming one of the Dark wizard hunters.  
  
"Good." Professor Tobias nodded, Ron beamed, and Harry and Hermione exchanged glum looks. "Anything else? Reasons you took this class . . . yes?"  
  
Neville made a face. "Gran made me."  
  
"And why, do you think, she had you continue in Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Professor Tobias looked at a sheet of parchment in his hand. "Why, Neville Longbottom, did you join the DA last year in spite of everything said against it?"  
  
The pudgy boy paled slightly, glancing at Harry. "I - well, what I mean to say is - I mean - to be safe," he concluded feebly.  
  
"To protect ourselves," Seamus added. "Because you never know what's going to happen and it's better to be prepared." He smiled at Neville; the other boy was giving him a look of thanks.  
  
The professor nodded. "Now, I need someone to sum up what Miss Granger and Misters Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, and Finnegan have said. One simple maxim: why are you in this room? Why prepare yourselves?"  
  
Silence. Harry looked around. His classmates were frowning, some of them biting fingernails, all trying to think.  
  
Professor Tobias stood up. "Your homework," he said, "is to think about the answer to my question: why are you here? Why should I teach you? Dismissed."  
  
The class shifted uneasily. "You want an essay?" Dean asked doubtfully.  
  
"Merely a prepared answer to tell me if I asked you, Mr. . . ."  
  
"Thomas."  
  
"Mr. Thomas. Yes?" Hermione had her hand in the air.  
  
"Sir, class hasn't ended yet."  
  
"I know." He nodded. "But I will not teach you until you can give me an answer to my question. Come back next week with one ready. Go on; the doorway won't burst into flames on your way out." His eyes were twinkling again.  
  
"Well, that was strange," Ron muttered as they climbed the main staircase. "A question even Hermione can't answer . . ."  
  
"It wasn't exactly a normal question, Ron," she said huffily, increasing her pace. "But a good one. Why are we there?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Beats me. Hey, Ron - grab your broom. Let's practice some Quidditch before dinner."  
  
Ron's face lit up. "Yes, let's!" And he took off down the hallways, yelling at Harry to catch up.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry had already been thrown to the floor twice with the Legilimency spell and was beginning to regret declining a yoga lesson that morning, climbing gingerly to his feet and brushing off the front of his robes.  
  
Amy gave him a look that was half wince, half grin. "You don't have to admit I'm right, but it might be easier on your knees."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he muttered, straightening his glasses and taking his wand more firmly in hand. "Maybe you keep lifting it just as I'm going to throw it off."  
  
She gave him a Look.  
  
"Okay, so I was joking . . ." Unconsciously he rumpled his hair. "But, I mean, it's taking longer to get to the bad memories, right?"  
  
Amy laughed, swinging herself up to sit on her desk, legs swinging. "Takes a lot longer after yoga," she said pointedly. "Come on, you have to admit it helps. Have you been practicing?"  
  
His silence spoke volumes.  
  
"Harry James Potter!" It was not real anger, more motherly frustration. "How are you supposed to get better if you don't practice?"  
  
"I've homework every night, a Quidditch tryout to plan, and some stupid riddle thing to answer for Dark Arts next!" he complained. "That's not exactly fodder for emptying my mind."  
  
She looked thoughtful. "So Henry's not yet dropped the why-are-you-taking- this-class thing, huh?"  
  
"Do you know the answer?" Harry, who had momentarily drooped, perked up.  
  
"Yes. And will I tell you? What's the fun in that?" She hopped off the desk, wand rising, but before it drew level there was a thump and a mild explosion from the fireplace, sending a figure - and some soot - into the room. Harry coughed against the fine dust, backing up instinctively and wiping off his glasses to see.  
  
"Amy! How wonderful to have found you at last." Lucius Malfoy brushed off his green robes, though his long blonde hair remained immaculate. "It has been so dreadfully long since our last . . . reunion."  
  
"Petrificus totalus!" Amy cried, freezing Harry before he could say something or, worse, try out a spell of some kind. He was frozen completely, though balanced enough not to fall. Had he still had control over any of his muscles - they all were freezing besides motionless - he would have glared at her. "Lucius, you should warn me, I was right in the middle -"  
  
"Of something less important than this. I know." His smile was blindingly fake, and Harry almost preferred Lockhart's. "You see, dear sister - I need your help."  
  
"Lucius," Amy said, scolding, standing up straight and not backing up as the desk was in her way, "look at me, at where I am. How can I provide assistance without arousing suspicions?"  
  
"That's not all you arouse," the elder Malfoy hissed softly, daring to step closer and brush a stand of hair from her face.  
  
"Now, Lucius," Amy said, ducking under his arm and going into the center of the room.  
  
"Now what?" he said, eyes glinting, clearly thinking she was playing a game. "You no longer have Regulus to think of."  
  
"But Narcissa is still very much alive," Amy said, keeping her voice light. Harry was dying to be unfrozen, dying to shoot a stream of green light directly at Malfoy's head, and the anger pulsing within him made him feel as though he could actually see this Unforgivable Curse through.  
  
"Who's going to tell her?" In one swift movement his walking stick was behind her back and he was hanging onto both end of it, drawing her closer. "I need your help."  
  
"You need me more here than it's worth to risk me being tossed out," Amy said, trying not to clench her teeth, putting her hands on his chest to try and push him away. "Lucius, please!"  
  
"You can erase the boy's memory later." His eyes were closing as he breathed in the scent of her hair. "There's nothing to stop us now."  
  
Harry could see Amy's eyes clearly and it was obvious she was trying desperately to think of a way out of this. "And what is it you want me to do?" she asked, still trying to pull away and not appear too offensive while doing so.  
  
Lucius' smile seemed to grow fangs. "Do I really need to spell it out for you?"  
  
Any noise Harry might have made caught in the back of his motionless throat as Malfoy actually dared to kiss Amy on the forehead, clearly intent on making the next one lower. "But Narcissa!" Amy cried, trying once more to pull away, this time not so subtlety. "Lucius, I can't!"  
  
"That's not for you to say," he said with a hint of a growl, eyes flashing. "The last time I had this chance you were all set to be engaged to Regulus and I had to settle for your sister. I can't go back there, anyway. She'll never know. And" - his smile grew malicious - "if that's a problem, then the problem can be eliminated."  
  
"You can't kill your own wife," Amy protested, glancing to the door and praying for someone to knock, to charge through. She wondered if she could get to her wand, unfreeze Harry, and get him to run out the door for help without first trying to blast the Death Eater.  
  
"You should have been my wife," Lucius growled, pulling her roughly closer. "If not for that stupid mother of yours, you would have been." Amy stopped moving with shock when he forcibly kissed her, stopped from wrenching away by the iron vice of his grip. "There," he said at last, almost panting. "That wasn't -" He stopped, holding up her left hand, through which he had been lacing his own fingers. "You stopped wearing the ring Regulus gave you years ago."  
  
"Lucius -"  
  
"You didn't - he couldn't have - you -" He was fast on his way to becoming purple with rage. "How dare he force you into accepting!" he roared, throwing her hand away and at last releasing her. "I'll kill him!"  
  
"Lucius -  
  
"Mark my words, Amy," Lucius said, catching her chin in his hand. "I'll free you from him. And I'll be waiting for you when the time comes." Kissing her once again, he swirled his cloak around himself, throwing Floo Powder into the fireplace before stepping in, vanishing in a puff of green smoke.  
  
She was shaking badly, eyes on the fireplace. "Damn him," she whispered, hand clenched around her wand. "Just - urgh!" With a flip of her wand she preformed the counter curse and Harry almost fell to the floor.  
  
"Why didn't you let me get him?" he demanded, almost as livid as the Death Eater had been. "You - he - he's in love with you?!"  
  
"Since he met me," she muttered, going to her desk, pulling out an armful of Chocolate Frogs and tossing one to him, collapsing in the chair and taking one for herself. "It's only luck I got out of marrying both him and Regulus . . ." She shuddered slightly, rolling the chocolate over her tongue. "Harry, I need you to do something for me," she said, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and trying not to shudder again. "Go down to the staff room. Fetch Severus - yes, I know he has a class, tell him he'll have to cancel - and Professor Dumbledore, then all three of you come up here. Minerva has a class, she'll be informed later, and Hagrid doesn't know half of this . . ." Amy trailed off, a line creasing her brow. "Yes, the two of them. Now," she commanded.  
  
"But -"  
  
"Harry, just go!"  
  
He went. 


	5. Chapter Five

Hand raised to knock on the staff room door, Harry was almost plowed over when it opened and Snape came out, a stack of parchment in his hand. "Watch it, Potter," he snarled before shoving him roughly aside.  
  
"Amy needs to see you," Harry said, trying to push any ill feelings for the man aside. "Now."  
  
"Potter, I have a class. And, as it the bane of my existence, so do you. The same one, in case you don't remember."  
  
"Yes, she knows," he said, exasperated, almost running to keep trailing him. "She said you should cancel it, and that -"  
  
"Cancel?" Snape turned, eyes narrowed. "Potter, this is NEWT level Potions. What -"  
  
"Just listen, would you?" Harry cut in, exasperated. "She knows all that. Look, just no win the hospital wing -  
  
"Hasn't anyone taught you not to interrupt?" Snape asked, completely ignoring the irony of the situation. "And unless you -"  
  
"Severus!" Dumbledore strode up, beard tossed over his shoulder. "I was just in with Nymphadora and Alistair. Amy needs you."  
  
Snape blinked. So did Harry. "Amy was with them?" he asked, thoroughly confused.  
  
"When there is such a breach of security within Hogwarts, it only makes sense that our Aurors should be notified," the headmaster said. "The two of you should come with me. Henry will take care of notifying your students. Come along."  
  
Out of pure will Harry did not give his professor a look that said "I told you so," but it was a struggle.  
  
Tonks and Moody were investigating the fireplace when they arrived. Amy was talking to something in her hand, gesturing with her other. Tonks called out distractedly, "Tell him to go."  
  
"Go on," Amy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as though she had a headache.  
  
"Tell her if I run into a brick wall, I'm blaming her," a small voice replied, clearly disgruntled - and worried. A moment later another shoof! of soot came out and Professor Lupin was brushing himself off, stepping out of the fireplace.  
  
"We're not connected to the Floo network," Snape said, eyeing the other man suspiciously as if Lupin had been the one to illegally connect them.  
  
Amy nodded. "So observed. But we are. At least, I am."  
  
"Are you all right?" Lupin hugged her tightly, especially when she returned the gesture almost desperately.  
  
"Well, my supply of Chocolate Frogs has suffered and I think I killed a toothbrush, but now my mouths at least semi-clean," she muttered.  
  
"You're connected for a good half-hour yet, near as I can tell," Moody said, blue eye swinging around to all the corners of the fireplace, though Harry had no idea what he was looking for.  
  
"Hmm, guess that makes his intentions clear," Amy said bitterly. Then, as tersely as possible, she explained the scene Harry had witnessed.  
  
"My god," Lupin said when she was done.  
  
"Damn him," Snape said at the same time. It was hard to tell which of the men was angrier: Lupin was holding Amy tightly, protectively, and a mask of anger was over his face, whereas the Potions professor actually had a pink tinge to his otherwise sallow skin.  
  
"But I don't know who he meant," she said, looking relieved that both of them were reacting in such a way. "I mean, with what's come before . . . he could go after either Severus or Remus."  
  
"Wait. You dated Sn - you dated Professor Snape?" Harry asked, not looking at the man. "Exactly how many Dark witches and wizards, past or present, have you been involved with?"  
  
Amy rolled her eyes. "No, I didn't date Severus. And I never actually dated Regulus. Mum was the one who got it into her head that we should marry and he was about to blindly follow her and propose when he got himself killed. As for Lucius, he only met me around the time Mum got her little idea and decided to settle for Narcissa. They were engaged by the time Reg was found to be dead and married before I was supposed to be done mourning him."  
  
"But Lucius thinks you might be engaged to Severus," Mad-Eye asked. "I'm not following."  
  
"Previously, to protect both of them, Severus and Amy had pretended to be seriously involved on my suggestion," Dumbledore said softly. "As he was supposed to be a Death Eater and she came from a Dark family, the arrangement was ideal throughout the shaky years following Voldemort's fall."  
  
Harry tried not to make a face at that. Amy and Snape, involved? Even just for show, the thought was sickening. And how "seriously"? Living-in-the- same-apartment seriously? Or just seeing-each-other-every-night-of-the-week seriously? Maybe she hadn't developed any feelings of attachment, but Harry was not so sure about the greasy-haired, hook-nosed professor.  
  
"Tell me about it," Lupin muttered, causing Harry to remember that he and Amy had been together then. He wondered how his old professor had felt about the arrangements.  
  
"We can check in at the Ministry to see who might have been able to hook this into the network," Moody said, completely breaking the train of thought. "Chances are, some of them are already his. We just need to find out which ones."  
  
"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Amy pulled away from Lupin. "Let's just think about this from Lucius' point of view: he goes to ask for help from someone he thinks is loyal and then, the next time he tries to contact her, the fires are being watched. He's going to be suspicious."  
  
"Not if they're still watching the fires from last year," Tonks piped up.  
  
Dead silence.  
  
"I thought they were," Lupin finally said in a strangled voice. "Albus, didn't you say that was part of the security measures taken to ensure Hogwarts would still be safe?"  
  
Dumbledore's eyes looked clouded. "Yes, Remus. That was something the minister and I have discussed."  
  
"Then - then they're already in the Ministry," Harry said, ice sliding into his stomach. Well, where his stomach would have been had it not left without him.  
  
"Not necessarily," Moody said, "though I doubt we're entirely clean. It could have been an Unforgivable Curse, or an attack by an outsider, but I'm inclined to inside help."  
  
"So maybe someone did detect it," Tonks said, eyes crossed as she tried to think. "If we have to modify a memory . . . they could believe that someone else walked into the room to catch Lucius in the act."  
  
"And why would someone be checking up on something like this?" Moody asked, though he, too, looked thoughtful.  
  
"To offer a game of Exploding Snap to pass what would otherwise be a boring shift," Lupin said dryly, looking an arm around Amy's waist as she leant back into him.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "This might take both of you. Go now, before you lose the fireplace."  
  
The Aurors nodded, accepting powder from a bag the headmaster handed them and then went out in puffs of green, smelly smoke.  
  
"Now what?" Amy asked softly, looking from Snape to Dumbledore.  
  
"Once we are sure Hogwarts is secure - or at least as sure and secure as we can be - then we have to protect the three of you."  
  
Lupin groaned. "Please, not again."  
  
"Like it's a barrel of monkeys for us, Remus," Amy returned flatly.  
  
"Just look at it this way, Remus," Snape said smoothly. "Lucius wishes to remove her fiancé."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Some reassurance."  
  
But Dumbledore was nodding. "Yes, I think it best that you revert back to that charade. Meanwhile" - he turned to Remus - "you will be staying here."  
  
"But the Order -"  
  
"Like you better alive than dead," the headmaster calmly finished. "This is only temporary, Remus, and I believe you would rather be here than stuck alone with her mother." He inclined his head toward Amy, indicating "number twelve, Grimmauld Place." Having done what he could, he left.  
  
Snape looked shrewdly at the couple. "You lost me a lesson," he accused Amy.  
  
She rolled her eyes, leaning around her desk to grab something, chucking it at him. "Have a Chocolate Frog. I've rather you had your lesson and I had a normal morning, thank you very much."  
  
"I'll say," Harry muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes. He had a lot to tell Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Cheers, Harry," Amy said wearily, raising a Frog of her own. "To never having another lesson like that."  
  
"I'd rather it was to no more yoga," he muttered, but he grinned at her as he left, just to let her know that Lucius Malfoy was worse than yoga any day.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Where have you been?" Hermione asked, exasperated, over the top of Dark Arts Theory: The Curses and the Reasoning. "We waited ages in the dungeons, but then Professor Tobias shooed us away."  
  
"No Potions, mate!" Ron said, grinning widely.  
  
"Oh, stop it, Ron." Hermione looked ready to bop him with her book, no laughing matter as the thing was huge. "There must have been something horrible, something to do with the Order or something."  
  
"No, McGonnagal was still in class," he argued. "Ginny looked green with envy when we passed . . ."  
  
"Are you two going to argue over what you think happened or do you actually want to know?" Harry broke in.  
  
"You know?" Hermione sat up, snapping the book shut without even a finger to mark her spot.  
  
Quickly Harry told them everything from the appearance of Lucius Malfoy to five minutes previous. Ron liked stunned. "So she wasn't only engaged to Regulus, she had Malfoy after her and Snape acting like they were all huggy- wuggy?"  
  
Hermione snorted with laughter. "'Huggy-wuggy'? What are you, two?"  
  
"And she wasn't actually engaged to Regulus," Harry pointed out. "I told you that."  
  
"Still . . ." Ron looked slightly sick. "Professor Lupin can't be taking this too well."  
  
"At least he's here," Hermione said, though she was making a face as though trying to get a bad taste out of her mouth. "Ugh, imagine him kissing you . . . he's even worse than Draco . . ."  
  
"I'll not imagine it, thanks." Ron looked as he had after blasting himself with the slug curse, ready to need a basin at any moment.  
  
"But that's rather interesting," Hermione said slowly, color returning to her cheeks. "That Draco's dad only married his mum because he couldn't have Amy . . . That should lead to a happy home life."  
  
Harry made a face, dropping into the empty armchair in front of the Common Room fire. "Hermione? Let me know when you stop trying to find ways to feel sorry for Draco."  
  
"I wasn't," she said indignantly. "I was just thinking that Amy's in a rather sticky spot. Sure, her parents are dead and gone, but that leaves Bellatrix and Narcissa, not to mention their husbands. Can you imagine, being forced by the mere thought of them to parade around with Snape while your real boyfriend - or fiancé - looks on?"  
  
Ron's face had frozen. "Parade around with Snape? I'm getting images of spangly circus outfits and I'm honestly trying to stop before I get to the spandex and tights."  
  
"Oh, would you grow up?" Hermione said, exasperated. "Look at it from her point of view, wouldn't you? She and Lupin are the ones who are in love, but to protect him she has to act all - what was that baby phrase?"  
  
"Huggy-wuggy," Harry supplied.  
  
"She has to act all huggy-wuggy with Snape," Hermione finished.  
  
"Yes," Ron said slowly, "but isn't it possible that maybe Snape sees it as more than an act?"  
  
Hermione gave him a Look, one Harry was sure she had picked up from Amy as he had just recently seen it from her. "Are you really that dense?" she asked, contempt dripping off every word.  
  
"Well, if I can have the emotional range of a tea cup -"  
  
"Tea spoon," Harry corrected.  
  
"- then I might as well have the intelligence of one," he finished, shooting Harry a burning look.  
  
"Congratulations on achieving your goal," she said shortly. "I'm going to lunch." She proceeded to ignore them all afternoon as well, though, when classes were over, she followed Harry, Ron, and Ginny down to the Quidditch pitch, even if she did still have her book with her.  
  
"And then," Ron said, hitting the Quaffle away from the goal hoops, "she accuses me of being an idiot."  
  
Ginny caught the Quaffle - quite well, Harry noted; their team would be gaining another Weasley come Friday's tryouts, he was sure - and gave her brother a withering look. "Ron, you are such a guy," she said, exasperated, lobbing the red ball to Harry, who caught it and circled for a goal.  
  
"Thanks for noticing," her brother muttered, lunging and spinning Harry's toss with the tips of his fingers, sending it just outside of the hoop and having to go chase it.  
  
"Do you know something we're too dense to notice?" Harry asked, giving Ginny a sideways glance.  
  
She laughed, tossing her hair and letting the wind blow it behind her. "Probably a lot of things," she admitted cheerfully. "But I'm not telling you; that's your problem."  
  
"A hint then?" he asked, flying closer as she came into possession of the Quaffle, making a sorry attempt to wrest it from her.  
  
"Since when do girls give hints more tantalizing than that?" Ginny laughed, flying behind him, out of his reach.  
  
"Har, har," he muttered, zooming after her, the wind whistling in his ears. Of a sudden he was run into by another person on a broom, temporarily blinded by way too much brown hair.  
  
"Ginny, go!" Hermione squealed with glee. "Yes! Ten points to the girls!" She brushed her hair form her face and turned to grin at Harry. "We challenge you. First pair to ten goals wins."  
  
"You're on!" Ron cried, Quaffle in hand as he had dived to retrieve it.  
  
"Oh boy," Ginny muttered, flying alongside Harry as the game began and Hermione had chosen to guard Ron. "It's bad enough they bicker, put them against each other and they'll clobber each other."  
  
Harry winced as Hermione scored a particularly difficult goal. "Cobbing, that," he noted, naming the foul for excessive use of elbows.  
  
"Not like he noticed," Ginny pointed out, sitting back and starting to finger comb her hair as their teammates did not even notice their absence, so viciously were they playing. "But you've a sure bet in her for Chaser, I think."  
  
"Then we just need one more," Harry mused. "Too bad we can't replace the Beaters, but none of those second years would be any better. Crabbe and Goyle would snap them like twigs."  
  
Ginny nodded in agreement, eyes intent on the small battle before them. "Where d'you think she learned?"  
  
"Who Hermione?" Harry grinned. "You don't think a champion Bulgarian Seeker had anything to do with it, do you?"  
  
She shook her head, hair flying in her face again. "She's not mentioned it to me, and Ron would be livid if he knew, so I'm not sure . . ."  
  
"Hah!" Hermione cried triumphantly, cheeks pink. "Ten to eight! We won."  
  
"We?" Ginny whispered.  
  
"Sure. Share the victory." Harry was not looking forward to prying Ron off Hermione; he had launched himself at her, shouting things he usually reserved for Snape, though she was defending herself quite well.  
  
Ginny laughed. "Come on, let's get inside for dinner." Grabbing Harry by the arm, she practically dragged him to the ground where they stored their brooms and made their way up to the castle, discussing some finer points of Chasing and being berated by both Ron and Hermione when they came in, utterly windblown, twenty minutes later. Harry had almost forgotten that morning's incidents until he looked up at the staff table.  
  
Places and been shuffled, putting Snape and Amy next to each other, though of course Lupin was nowhere to be seen. "Hey, look," he muttered, nudging Ginny as the other two were bickering again.  
  
She glanced up, catching Snape as he leaned in and whispered something in her ear, causing her to laugh. "Remember, it's all about appearances," she said softly. "For all we know it was a stupid knock-knock joke."  
  
Harry nodded, but he found himself glancing up there more often as the night wore on, finally dragging himself up to the dormitory to put the finishing touches on a Transfiguration essay before going to bed, Ron and Hermione still exchanging random insults behind him. He was asleep quickly, running along a pleasant country road, but then he tripped. Instead of a face plant in the dust, he tumbled end over end, landing softly in a shadowy place. Slightly dazed, he began to look around.  
  
The door slammed. "She's impossible!" Ron steamed, beginning to tear off his clothes and pull on his pajamas. "Honestly, Harry, I can see why you didn't last long with Cho . . . girls!" With this last exclamation he disappeared behind his curtains, leaving Harry to go back to sleep, but - this time - he did not dream.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The class looked up expectantly as Professor Tobias strode in. "Mr. . . . Finnegan, is it?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Seamus said, looking a bit shocked that apparently he was going to be the one to have to answer the question.  
  
"Why are you here?" The professor reached the front of the room and turned to face them.  
  
"Erm . . . the class was on my schedule, sir," he answered weakly.  
  
Professor Tobias raised an eyebrow. "Do you always go to every class on your schedule, or are you a fan of those wonderful Skiving Snackboxes?"  
  
"I - uh - I've not used one yet."  
  
"Very well. Mr. Potter." The professor's blue eyes turned to him. "You have your wand out. If you are ready to do magic, I assume you know the answer to my question. Why are you here?"  
  
"Because of a prophecy," he said quietly. The class started murmuring, but the professor's gaze only intensified.  
  
"A prophecy told you to take this class."  
  
"No."  
  
"It told you that something would happen and you decided you would need this class."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"A solid future?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, then." He spread his hands. "What's to say that your desired outcome might even take place without this class?"  
  
"Please, sir," Hermione said, hand in the air, "I don't think any of us quite understand what you're asking."  
  
"Oh, you understand it quite plainly," he assured them, "and the answers you are giving me - at least, most of them" - he raised an eyebrow at Seamus - "are all revolving around the one answer I want."  
  
"Something involving prophecies," she said, though she really didn't seem to think she was clarifying it.  
  
Professor Tobias nodded. "Prophecies, jobs, ambitions . . . just-in-cases . . . think about it. What binds them together?"  
  
The class exchanged quizzical glances. Finally Neville's hand fluttered perhaps an inch higher than normal resting height. "Yes?" the professor asked. "Mr. Longbottom."  
  
Neville glanced around as if to steel himself for the reaction his reply would get. "They haven't happened yet."  
  
Silence. Then, "Bravo, my boy! Ten points to Gryffindor!"  
  
Hermione blinked. "That's it? That's why we should be taking this class?"  
  
"Of course!" He was smiling, blue eyes twinkling. "You should be taking this class because you have a future. You do all have futures, don't you?"  
  
She still looked gypped. "Doesn't everyone?" Had she been anyone but Hermione, she might have accused that of being the dumbest thing she had ever heard.  
  
"Does everyone?" Professor Tobias took a seat on the edge of his desk.  
  
"Well, yes. Unless they're dead, not much of a future in that." Her arms were crossed, electricity seeming to shoot out of the ends of her hair. Hermione had suffered through too many years with bogus Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers and she was not going to stand for another, especially not in a NEWT year. "That's what we call it when you're alive tomorrow."  
  
"My dear girl, I do believe what we have here is a definition discrepancy." Far from being exasperated, the professor actually seemed thrilled that someone was challenging him on this. "You're defining a future as being alive in a time further on than now; I'm defining it differently."  
  
"How, then?" Harry asked, interest piqued.  
  
The professor pondered this a moment, not having had to answer questions like these in a long time. "Ambition, I suppose. The desire of advancement, to keep pushing the envelope, to use wax and feathers and make wings, to risk the fall."  
  
"Huh?" Ron said blankly, the Greek mythology allusion having been beyond him.  
  
"I'm not measuring your future in time, but in distance," Professor Tobias explained. "How far have you come? For that matter, how much further can you go? And will you? Do you want to? The sorriest thing in the world is a man who can go miles and is content with staying right where he is."  
  
"So we're taking this class because we have a future." Hermione still looked skeptical.  
  
He inclined his head. "Would you rather define it some other way?"  
  
"Well, yes," she said, looking a tad distressed.  
  
"How, then?"  
  
"Not by just saying it's because we have a future. But because . . . well, we haven't learned everything yet. There's so much more out there than we know, and we should at least take a whack at learning it."  
  
"But isn't that what he's saying?" Ron asked, looking confused at her confusion. "Going as far as we can, that sort of thing."  
  
Still she looked troubled. "But that's saying that some people don't have futures, like they're stuck in time."  
  
"Rather poetic way of putting it," the professor allowed. "They aren't stuck literally, of course, but perhaps in their mentality. That's my belief, anyway."  
  
"But time's not like that," she argued. "Time flows and changes. Yes, maybe you can go back with a Time Turner, but you still can't make anything happen that didn't happen the first time, not and be safe. Time's more complicated than that. And if people actually stuck themselves in the same moment for the rest of their lives . . ."  
  
"The results would be disastrous? My point exactly." He nodded. "Anyone else care to comment?"  
  
"Then you could word it another way," Harry said slowly. "You could say we're in this class so we can keep moving."  
  
"Arguments on that?" His blue eyes rested lightly on Hermione.  
  
She shrugged. "I'm fine with that. But - you did say this was Defense Against the Dark Arts and not Theology, correct?"  
  
The professor laughed. "I happen to think that Theology is what happens when you start pondering your next step and people don't do that as often as they should. Now, wands out; I'd like to see how advanced everyone is."  
  
"That was a bit insane," Hermione muttered an hour later as they left the classroom, some of them - the non-DA members - nursing small cuts and bruises.  
  
"I'll say," Ron agreed, shoving his hair out of his eyes and juggling three large textbooks while still trying to take the stairs three at a time. "I'm not used to thinking in that class . . ."  
  
"D'you think there's a reason behind it?" Harry asked, walking normally beside Hermione. "I mean, a reason he wants us to start thinking like that. Maybe - maybe . . ."  
  
She frowned, biting her lip. "Maybe because he thinks it'll help us? I don't know, Harry. But too much more of that and my head will explode. Come on, let's grab Ginny and go for some more Quidditch practice, we've not much time until Friday."  
  
Ron had come to a halt as she streaked by him. "What's up with that?" he asked Harry faintly. "Hermione, saying a class makes her head hurt and skipping off for Quidditch . . . D'you get the feeling there's something she's not telling us?"  
  
"Loads," Harry agreed heavily. "But come on - at least she's not buying us homework planners."  
  
Ron laughed and they took off to dump their things in their room and meet the girls on the Quidditch pitch for a few rounds before dinner.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry looked around the Room of Requirement, fingering the fake Galleon in his pocket. "D'you actually think anyone will show up?" he asked doubtfully. "I mean, what if they haven't even thought about this all summer? What if they accidentally spent their Galleons?" What if they've decided I'm not a good enough teacher?  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Relax, Harry," she muttered over the top of The Big Book of Bad Curses. "I'm sure at least half of them will show up."  
  
"And, if not," Ron said cheerily, "then you're just stuck with us." He grinned, balancing his wand on the tip of hi finger and staggering drunkenly to keep it upright.  
  
In fact, everyone who had not graduated - with the exception of Cho's friend - showed up. Zacharius Smith was sure to complain that they started out the year with a review, but Ron hit him with a Full Body Bind and conveniently forgot the counter curse, so he spent half an hour looking it up. Even Hermione refused to tell, though everyone knew she knew.  
  
Amy showed up part of the way through the lesson, after Zacharius had been unfrozen, slipping in through the door and taking a seat cross legged in the corner, watching with silent interest. She was so silent and so still that half of the DA didn't even notice she was there. Even Harry was inclined to forget as he circled his classmates, encouraging and offering hints that had been forgotten over the summer.  
  
It was nine o'clock when he looked at his watch, but by now he was expecting time to fly, and the good-natured groans of the other members just made him smile as they slipped out in twos and threes, eager for the next lesson. Harry smiled. "That was rather fun, wasn't it?" he asked no one in particular.  
  
Amy grinned, standing. "Have you given any thought to a career other than being an Auror?"  
  
He blinked. "Other than an Auror? No. Why?"  
  
"Because you make a good Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," she observed. "Seriously, give it a think."  
  
Harry almost laughed. "Me, a Dark Arts professor? You're just joshing me."  
  
"She's right, you are good," Hermione said. "But then, that's the reason I asked you in the first place."  
  
"Sure, mate," Ron said, rubbing his head where he had hit it after being Stunned and missing the pillows. "It's give you a job for a year, at least."  
  
"You're mental, all of you," Harry said dismissively. "Come on, we should be getting back to the Common Room."  
  
"You two go ahead," Hermione said quickly. "I've - I think I left my knitting in the hospital wing."  
  
Amy nodded. "That's a possibility. Come on, I'll fend of Filch and that devil cat - 'scuse me, Mrs. Norris. Night, you two." Nodding to Harry and Ron, she left, followed by Hermione.  
  
Harry and Ron shared a look. "She was working on a sweater before we came here," Ron said, confused.  
  
"Maybe she has more than one?" Harry shrugged. "But come on, or Filch'll come up with some reason to string us up in the dungeons."  
  
"Good thing we got rid of Umbridge when we did," Ron agreed. "Really, he was getting too attached to her . . . wanting to pick out curtains and everything . . ."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Friday evening found Harry windblown and very much shocked. He was in a sort of fog while putting his broom away after Quidditch try-outs. The first bit was easy to explain - they'd needed three Chasers. Three people showed up to try out. Exactly three. So he'd had to accept them all, and announced an impromptu team practice, Harry and the two Beaters against the three prospective Chasers, Ron guarding the goal (Harry didn't want to get discouraged too early by giving them actual Bludgers).  
  
Ginny and Hermione were a good team. "Maybe it's all those knitting lessons together," Ron grunted, performing a sloppy Starfish on a Stick, but blocking the goal hoops. Indeed, they seemed to anticipate one another, knowing instinctively what the other's first move would be. Harry was impressed, to say the least, and nothing could have brought him down, not even if the third member stank beyond belief.  
  
He didn't. Believe it or not - despite the fact that a strong breeze looked like it would blow him off his broom, despite the fact that any member of the Slytherin team could have torn him in two and not even worked up a sweat, despite the fact that Hermione and Ginny were rather hogging the Quaffle - Colin Creevy was a dang good Quidditch player.  
  
"Can you believe it?" Ron asked, coming into the broom shed after Harry, robes fastened under his left ear from the exertion of playing. "I mean, did you even see half those goals he shot at me? Bloody brilliant!"  
  
"I think it's grand," Hermione said, putting hers and Ginny's brooms away. "He's a perfect third, did you know?"  
  
"Why, he's four half steps?" Ginny grinned at the confusion on their faces. "Never mind, it's a music thing."  
  
Hermione blinked, obviously shocked there was an area besides chess where she might need brushing up. "Er - I meant because no one'll expect him to be that good. Especially if we stress that there were only three players who showed up."  
  
"Did I do all right, Harry?" Colin asked, finally making it to the shed, brushing his mousy brown hair out of his eyes.  
  
"You did great, Colin," Harry said enthusiastically. And he did not have to fake his smile.  
  
"We're going to win it this year, I can tell," Ron said seriously later that night at dinner, shoveling huge amounts of everything on his plate. "No way they can top us."  
  
"Mmm." Harry had caught a glimpse of Cho over Ron's shoulder, hanging all over Ginny's ex-boyfriend. He wondered whether that should arouse any emotion at all, because it didn't.  
  
"Sickening, isn't it?" Ginny asked, having followed his line of sight just in time for a kiss.  
  
"He wasn't that way with you," he pointed out, "that way" meaning "he didn't hang all over you in some disgusting manner."  
  
"No. Wouldn't let him." She grinned at him, something catching her eye and she leaned slightly to the right.  
  
Harry turned this time, seeing Dean and Seamus come in, Dean talking about something with much waving of his hands. "You still after him?"  
  
"Care to point out someone better?" she murmured, eyebrow raised.  
  
Harry realized Ron had clued into what they were saying. "Well, there's Crabbe," he said seriously. "I know, doesn't let on, but really he's a brilliant linguist, reads all the classics in the original languages."  
  
A moment of confusion flickered over her face, but she caught on rather quickly. "I don't know," she said slowly, reaching for the pork roast. "I heard Gregory Goyle has such a wonderful sense of humor."  
  
"Ah, but he's a ladies' man. You deserve better."  
  
Ginny blushed slightly, laughing. "I'd've asked Drakey - er, Malfoy" - she batted her eyes - "soon as we got back to school, but I'm allergic to ferrets."  
  
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Well, if you'd just gone to Amy for that potion I'd told you about, you two could've been snogging in the Astronomy Tower right now."  
  
Ron finally managed to swallow his mouthful. "What the devil are you three saying?"  
  
"Oh, come on, Ron, didn't you listen to the Sorting Hat at all?" Hermione demanded. "Uniting the Houses . . . why, it's high time Gryffindor and Slytherin had some common blood."  
  
Ron was distinctly green. He looked down at his plate and shoved it away. "I really shouldn't listen to you when I'm hungry, ruins my appetite straight off . . ."  
  
Ginny gave Harry a wink and went back to her pork. Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry, clearly trying to indicate something, but he was clueless.  
  
"Hey, where's Amy?" Ron asked, scanning the Head Table. Harry glanced up. There was an empty seat next to Snape.  
  
"He doesn't look too worried," Hermione muttered, eyes intent on the Potions professor. Indeed, he looked a bit grumpier than usual, not speaking to Professor Sinistra on his other side. Then again, she looked rather relieved.  
  
"She's probably doing something with Lupin," Ginny suggested. "You know . . . ."  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged a look that said they did not want to know.  
  
But Hermione laughed. "No, he's not supposed to see, not until their wedding day."  
  
Ron and Harry busied themselves with food, the color having returned to Ron's cheeks.  
  
"Mum's coming up a week from tomorrow, for the Hogsmeade visit," Ginny informed Ron. "We're all going with Amy and Tonks to get the final order for her wedding dress, we've been looking at scraps and trims all week."  
  
Ron looked a bit too shocked to even chew right then, though Harry made a quicker recovery. "When're they getting married, then?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "It might be as soon as Christmas holidays, but that depends on when they can get the dress done and all. Oh, you should see the design she favors. It's like something a princess would wear!" Hermione, gushing. It was definitely a sight to see.  
  
"Oh, there she is," Ron managed.  
  
Amy had come up to the staff table but, instead of sitting down to eat, she whispered something in Snape's ear. He immediately threw his napkin on the table, got up, and followed her out a side door.  
  
"Wonder what that's all about," Hermione said vaguely, meaning she really didn't wonder at all, but whether this was because she knew or because it was business for the professors, the boys really couldn't say. "Anyway, yes, I agree: we have a really good team this year." Just like that, they were back to Quidditch. 


	6. Chapter Six

But it wasn't professor business. They found this out half an hour later, after Hermione had practically torn up the Common Room for her knitting. "I was sure it was here," she muttered, actually getting on her knees to look under a couch.  
  
"Well, what does it look like?" Harry said, trying to be patient.  
  
"I've only the one," she shot back, irritated. "Don't tell me I left it again."  
  
"Bit forgetful, isn't she?" Ron asked, playing out a round of Solitaire with Exploding Snap cards, just to make it a bit more interesting.  
  
Hermione sighed. "Well, we're not getting any help from him. Come with me, Harry?"  
  
"Sure," he agreed, following her to the hospital wing, which was empty. "Strange," he commented. "I thought she'd be talking to Snape or something."  
  
"And that they'd do it out in the open? Honestly." She rolled her eyes. "They're probably in the back. I wouldn't interrupt them, but I want Dobby's sweater done for Christmas . . ." Pulling aside the tapestry, she knocked on the door.  
  
It was opened almost immediately, though Snape's eyes darkened when he saw who it was. "What do you want, Potter?"  
  
"Sir, I think I left my knitting here," Hermione said, trying to sound innocent and reasonable. "If I could just speak to Amy -"  
  
"Is that Moody?" Charlie's voice came from the left, and then he was in the doorway, widening the crack. "Where is he? Well, what brings you here?" He ran a hand through his hair, looking rather stressed.  
  
"What's going on?" Harry asked before Hermione could form another plea for her knitting. "Did something else happen?" His scar hadn't tingled, but still . . . what if that only meant his Occlumency lessons were working?  
  
"It's none of your business, Potter," Snape growled, showing his yellowing teeth.  
  
"If it involves my godmother it is too my business," he shot back. "Did something else happen?"  
  
Tonks came up then, tucking herself under Charlie's arm and looking distinctly unhappy. Her eyes were red, her hair was black, and it was lying flat. "Wotcher, Harry," she sniffed, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "You haven't seen Mad-Eye around, have you?"  
  
"Tonks, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, looking more than a little concerned. "Are you all right?"  
  
She snorted. "Minor crisis, no need to panic."  
  
Amy came up then, crowding the doorframe, glaring at the mirror in her hand. "Why is it that when I least want to see him he's always there? Where is he now? I'm tempted to smash this . . . Either of you two seen Moody?" She seemed to have just realized why everyone was gathered around the door.  
  
"No," Harry said, exasperated. "Why do you want him?"  
  
"So she can two-time me," Snape said dryly. "Now, if you two would kindly -"  
  
"Oh, hush," Amy said, shoving her hair out of her face.  
  
"They might as well know," Tonks said with a sigh. "I mean, sheesh, not like your family can get any worse . . ."  
  
Five minutes later they were in the chairs around the fire. Lupin had come out to join them as soon as it was apparent everyone present knew he was there, and he, Amy, Tonks, and Charlie were sitting on the couch in that order, clutching mugs of hot chocolate.  
  
"My mum just wrote me," Tonks began, staring unseeingly into the fireplace. "She left when I was fourteen, sent Dad into a tizzy. He couldn't handle having me there, so Amy took me in for a good number of holidays, until he'd managed to convince himself she was dead or something."  
  
"What's that have to do with the mirror?" Harry asked, warming his hands on his own mug.  
  
Amy laughed humorlessly. "I was trying to contact Lucius," she said bitterly. "See, Anna said she'd joined Bella -"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Tonks's mum. Andromeda, but we call her Anna. And Bellatrix is always Bella."  
  
A small smile tugged at the corner of Lupin's mouth. "And Narcissa?"  
  
"Sissy," Amy said with satisfaction. "But anyway, Anna said she'd finally seen the light and gone to join Bella and all them, so we're trying to figure out whether or not it's true."  
  
"And Professor Moody's missing?" Hermione asked. "That can't be good."  
  
"He went into Hogsmeade, to see if rumors were flying," Charlie said. "If he's gone longer, it might mean he's heard more."  
  
Harry licked his lips. "But I thought . . . Anna . . . was blasted off the tapestry because she married a Muggle, because she didn't hold with the family."  
  
"So did we," Amy and Tonks said in unison. "But neither of us have seen her in years," the healer continued. "And no one really knows why she left in the first place. But she knows Tonks is here. Or, at least, someone close enough to the family to know a lot knows she's here."  
  
"Like Bella or Sissy," Tonks said.  
  
"Hence the mirror," Lupin concluded. "Because Lucius would know." He immediately took a drink of his chocolate as if to wash down the bitterness of the name, and Amy leaned against him, looking for all the world as if she could fall asleep right there.  
  
"Enough," Snape said, standing up and herding Harry and Hermione out.  
  
"Well, at least that explains why Tonks and Amy are so close," Harry said as they rounded the corner to the fat lady.  
  
Hermione nodded slowly. "Piggle-wink. I think," she said as they climbed through the portrait hole, "that something strange is going on. There's more than any of them are letting on, you know."  
  
"Tell me about it," Harry muttered as the picture swung shut behind them. "I think there's more than you're letting on."  
  
She smiled and was about to make a no doubt cutting remark when she gasped.  
  
"What? What is it?"  
  
"My knitting! Oh, drat. I'll have to get it tomorrow."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The next two weeks fairly flew by, what with the DA, Quidditch practice, homework, and Occlumency lessons. October dawned clear and bright, a false hint of warm weather in the breeze. Any given afternoon the Quidditch pitch was sure to be put to use by one team or another, though mostly Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, as they had the first match coming up. Cho hadn't been made captain, even though she was the only seventh year; it was a fifth year instead, Alex Hayes, their Keeper. It was also only his second year on the team, so Harry wasn't too worried.  
  
Care of Magical Creatures had improved drastically when Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and most of the Slytherins had dropped it, and now they were back to things as exiting as hippogriffs, if marginally less dangerous. Defense Against the Dark Arts was rather easy, concentrating on defensive spells at the moment - Dean had complained about this, too, but Professor Tobias said that, once they started learning a bit more of the Dark Arts, they'd be glad for the shields, and he'd shut up - simple things that the DA had already mastered. Transfiguration was moving slowly toward turning desks into pigs and even Ron was improving more quickly than usual. He was liable to whip out his wand and turn a quill into something - usually living - and back before the owner of the quill had a chance to squeak. Charms had them levitating themselves. Neville was showing the same determination as he did in the DA and levitated himself so quickly on the forth try that he cracked his head on the ceiling and had to be taken to the hospital wing for a broken leg, but he seemed in great spirits when he regained consciousness three hours later. Even Occlumency was far more enjoyable than Harry ever thought it could be when Snape had been teaching it. The only problem was Potions.  
  
No doubt about it, Snape still hated him. It showed in the way he swooped about the dungeons, peering into caldrons and just watching with narrowed eyes as they chopped their roots and mashed their beetles. He didn't say much to Harry. He couldn't, really; it had not taken the school long to bite on the Snape/Amy pairing, and it was common knowledge as well that Hermione and Ginny were good friends with Amy, and that their school nurse also was rather fond of Harry. Putting this together, Snape could not very well victimize his favorite victim without upsetting his supposed fiancée, so Harry was safe. Still, being ignored was rather unnerving, as he had no idea what sort of marks he was getting in that class. Also, Snape had developed the habit of hanging around Hermione more than usual, on odd days, once every two lessons or so, just scrutinizing the way she measured her armadillo bile or stirred the mixture in her cauldron, though he never said anything, and she never complained.  
  
When Harry went to his Occlumency lesson the next Monday, my wasn't yet in her office, but Professor Lupin was in a chair by the fire, Daily Prophet in hand. He looked up when the door opened, not anxious, merely interested, as he and Snape had enchanted the tapestry only to be pulled back by certain people, all of whom knew he was there. "Take a seat, Harry," he said cheerfully. "She just realized we're almost out of Pepperup Potion - we used enough yesterday on some of those first years - and is making up a new batch. How're things with you?"  
  
"Good," Harry said truthfully, sinking into another armchair. "Er - Professor?"  
  
"Yes, Harry?"  
  
"I was just wondering . . . I mean, I like not having dreams about locked doors and not having a headache all the time, but . . . well . . ."  
  
"You're used to knowing what Voldemort's feeling and don't like being so totally in the dark?" Lupin finished, folding up the paper.  
  
Harry blinked. "Well, yeah. I mean, not like it was tons of fun or anything, but still . . ."  
  
The werewolf smiled. "Understood, but -"  
  
"Argh!" Amy came into the room, grabbing some sort of power from a pot by the fireplace and throwing it in. "Severus! I'm out of lithelweed again!" Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she finally saw Harry and his expression. "Oh, hi. Sorry, this is just really annoying - that stuff keeps disappearing . . ."  
  
Something appeared in the fireplace, revolving quickly, and a moment later Snape stepped out. "I told you to put a lock on your door," he said reproachfully. "Even private stores aren't safe . . ." His eyes roved to Harry, who merely glared back. It hadn't been him either of the times something had gone missing from Snape's office; first it was Hermione and then Dobby, the house-elf, but there was no way he was going to explain that and get them in trouble.  
  
"No one would take it," she replied irritably, plopping into a chair. "Not even other professors. Lithelweed is used exclusively in healing potions. You don't even study it until third year Healer training!"  
  
"Maybe it's an over-zealous house-elf," Lupin suggested, lifting the paper again. "Believe me, that stuff stinks . . ."  
  
"And I don't have any in my stores," Snape added. "You cleaned me out last week."  
  
Amy snorted. "Be grateful. I've seen enough runny noses to last until summer. Remus?" she asked sweetly.  
  
He sighed, putting the paper away. "Gee, I have the sudden urge to go to Hogsmead."  
  
"Thanks. Just a - no, take two bags." Amy tossed him a small coin purse. "And while you're at it, stop in at Honeydukes and get some of those boulders of chocolate, they keep forever . . ."  
  
"Anything else?" he asked, bowing slightly.  
  
She grinned. "Surprise me."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Lupin left. Amy turned to the Potions professor. "Sorry about that, Sev. You can go back to whatever."  
  
"I think I'd rather witness an Occlumency lesson, just to see how Potter's improving," he said, seating himself in the chair Lupin recently vacated. "That is, if you don't mind."  
  
Harry's stomach did a little flip-flop. Mind? Of course he'd mind! But it wasn't like he could say it. Amy glanced at him, but he nodded. "Go on, hit me," he said, hoping he didn't sound as miserable as he felt.  
  
Knowing Harry only tolerated the indecency of yoga without anyone else present, she nodded. "Legilimens," she said firmly, wand pointed at him.  
  
Harry was desperately trying to clear his mind, eyes closed. Nothing . . . Snape breathing down the back of his neck as he tried to make a Forgetfulness Potion . . . nothing . . . nothing . . . Snape . . . Snape in Umbridge's office, sneering at him . . . Snape and Sirius, fighting . . . nothing . . . a desperate nothing . . . Sirius . . . Sirius . . . with a wrench Harry fought against it . . . Sirius . . . Sirius laughing and sweeping a young Amy out of the window seat because their godson had just been born . . .  
  
He actually felt himself relax against the back of the seat. Sirius, grinning out of the photo from his parent's wedding . . . Sirius, staring after Amy and Lupin when he'd asked her for tea . . . nothing . . .  
  
Harry opened his eyes. Amy was staring at him, but Snape was standing. "Class in five minutes, Potter."  
  
He blinked. Five minutes? But that meant he'd been under the curse for at least an hour . . . "Harry, that was wonderful!" Amy gushed as soon as the door was closed. "Amazing! No wand or anything . . . why, a few more lessons and you won't even go under!"  
  
"It didn't seem too hard that time," he admitted weakly, accepting the Chocolate Frog she tossed him. "It was almost - easy."  
  
Amy nodded. "It's supposed to be easy. Now, get down there before Sev comes after me for making you late."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Ginny scowled crossly at her homework. "Find a person you don't know too well and interpret their dreams, my foot," she snarled at the parchment. "What does she expect me to do, waltz up to Malfoy and ask him if he's had a pleasant night's sleep?"  
  
"I made that up," Harry told her. "Said I had a pen friend in Bolivia and then gave him a couple dreams. All meaning death in horrible ways, of course."  
  
She was about to reply when she perked up. "Oy! Amy!"  
  
"Shh!" Madame Pince said harshly, glaring at them. "This is the library!"  
  
"Yes, that's what you call it when there are all these books," Harry muttered, but Amy was headed their way, a few books under her arms.  
  
"You beckoned?" she asked, setting them down. Hermione actually looked up from her homework long enough to glance at the titles - things like When is a Cold Not a Cold? and Potions for the Elite - before going back to her Arithmancy essay.  
  
Ginny nodded. "I don't suppose you've had any good dreams in the past couple nights."  
  
Amy raised an eyebrow. "Divination?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Well, let me see . . . and you'll never know if I'm making them up, so . . ." Her eyes twinkled. "Two nights ago - you need the date, right?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm." Ginny was poised for notes.  
  
"Well, then. Two nights ago I dreamed I was running . . . in the mountains . . . with a wolf." She winked at Harry. Two nights ago had been a full moon. "And we were going somewhere . . ."  
  
"Shopping?" Harry suggested.  
  
"Yes, we wanted to go shopping, but we weren't getting any closer to the stores. It was exhausting . . . and then I woke up. Good?"  
  
The girl frowned, tickling her chin with the end of her quill. "You took Divination didn't you?"  
  
"You mean so that I know there's going to be a connection between me and the wolf, and the mountains are high, lofty places, so it'll be some profound connection - and let's see, the shopping thing . . . there's something we're looking for, but it's not to be found." She shrugged. "Ah, well. Can't have everything."  
  
Ginny was scribbling like mad to get the entire prediction down. "Uh, okay . . . anything last night? We're supposed to try for more than one."  
  
"Last night . . . I dreamed I was at a party." Amy was speaking slowly, but this was a real dream, not one made up to help someone with her homework. "It was like a ghost party, everyone there was white, but they were solid. I was the only thing in color, but they couldn't see me. Or touch me, either. So it was like I was some spirit or something, floating around and listening to what they were saying."  
  
"What was that?" Ginny asked, ink smeared on her cheek where she had brushed away some of her hair.  
  
Amy shrugged. I" don't remember. It was strange, like in another language, but I think I understood it."  
  
Harry watched Ginny page through her book. "Great, give me a complicated one."  
  
"No problem." Amy grinned. "Is that good?"  
  
"Yeah, thanks, this is great. I think -"  
  
But Ginny was cut off by Madame Pince. "Out! Out! Shoo!" She was hopping around, waving her hands at a large brown barn owl, but the owl was intent on its delivery, landing in front of Amy and letting her take the letter before it took off.  
  
She smoothed it out.  
  
Ames -  
  
A little help, here?  
  
Sev  
  
"Help?" Harry asked, but there was another sheet.  
  
EGNALHCSEIDNOVEHANREDNITSITFIGNETTARSAD  
  
Hermione frowned. "Is that supposed to make sense?"  
  
"Supposed to," Amy said slowly. "It's probably for the Order, something intercepted, but I have no idea . . ."  
  
"If it's intercepted it's probably in code," Harry said, "and that means we wouldn't know what it meant even if we figured it out, right?"  
  
Amy rolled her eyes. "Look, you want to work on this, only in my office, all right? I'm not going to leave this nonsense lying around." She waved the parchment.  
  
Hermione snapped her book shut. "Well, let's go now, shall we?"  
  
"I'll go get Ron," Ginny said, scanning the rows of books. "He's got to be around her somewhere . . ." She scampered off.  
  
Amy shrugged. "Come on - no, wait, go ahead, should check these out first -" And she hurried over to Madam Pince before the other woman could shoot her with another piercing stare.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Amy was glaring at the parchment as if she could set it on fire with her vision. Hermione, quill in hand, was trying the last three rounds of letter substitution she could think of. Lupin was staring out the window blankly, focused on solving the message. Snape was pacing around her office, robes billowing. And Harry and Ron had reverted to tic-tac-toe.  
  
"Sev, I'm going to demand my Saturday back," Amy muttered, picking up the parchment and trying to pronounce it. "Egg-nalc-seid-nove-han-red-nits-it- fig-net-tar-sad. Simple: if you have eggs and red nits, wash your hair in sad tar. Are you sure this isn't a decoy?"  
  
He nodded as he passed. "The other four were definitely fake. If any one of these is real, this one is."  
  
"And you think it's . . ." Lupin trailed off when Snape nodded. "So we need this."  
  
"Good luck," Hermione said, moving on to her last two substitutions and finally looking frustrated. "There's nothing in it. It's completely stupid."  
  
Amy laughed, picking up the parchment and holding it up to the light as if that might help. "Well, if you're going by IQ, yes, Hermione, this bit of parchment and ink is stupid."  
  
"Don't tell me they've finally outwitted us," Snape muttered, crossing to Amy and looking over her shoulder. "You've cracked all the other ones in record time. We only acted on the easy ones, they can't have thought we got them all . . ."  
  
She snorted, turning the parchment over and trying to read it through the back.  
  
"That's not very encouraging," Snape muttered.  
  
"It had to be this one." Lupin thumped a fist against the glass. "Of course, the thing we're really waiting for . . . great."  
  
DERRATTENGIFTISTINDERNAHEVONDIESCHLANGE. Amy had written it out slowly, checking every letter. "Merlin's beard, they're idiots," she muttered.  
  
Snape and Lupin were immediately at her side, eyes raking this small scrap of parchment for information. "That's encouraging," Snape said dryly.  
  
"Yes, almost makes us feel dumb," Lupin added.  
  
Harry and Ron shared a look. Since when had those two started talking like Fred and George? Oblivious, Hermione scowled and moved on to her last shot.  
  
"No, look." Amy put slashes between certain letters so that it now read DER/RATTENGIFT/IST/IN/DER/NAHE/VON/DIE/SCHLANGE. "Der Rattengift ist in der Nahe von die Schalnge. Remus, it makes sense!"  
  
"And it means?" Snape prompted.  
  
"The rat poison is close to the snake. It's German, one of my roommates was from Germany." Amy was looking up at them expectantly.  
  
"If that's true . . ." Lupin blinked.  
  
"We have to tell the rest," Snape added. "Then - well, you, of course," he said to Lupin.  
  
"And probably you," the other man added. "And one of the Aurors, probably Tonks, it'll look better that way."  
  
"Hey, no wait." Amy stood up, holding up her hands as if to keep the two of them apart. "Sure, just send everyone I care about on some suicidal mission that's going to last who knows how long . . . Sev, you've classes to teach!"  
  
"And I'll note you as my substitute," he said calmly. "You know I need to go."  
  
"Sev -"  
  
"And someone has to keep him out of trouble," Lupin said with something that might have been a tight grin.  
  
Amy looked back and forth between the two of them helplessly. "Look, when I said you needed to start agreeing more often than not, I meant that to be a sort of three way thing. I mean, you're supposed to agree with me, too."  
  
Snape gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Look, we still have to get this past Dumbledore."  
  
"He's going to agree, you know he is!"  
  
"Yes, but it saves you perhaps half an hour of worrying." He raised an eyebrow.  
  
She laughed slightly, sighing and shoving her hair out of her eyes. "Look, both of you: take care of each other."  
  
"Promise." Snape kissed her cheek - in full sight of Lupin, in a room that was full of people who knew that was supposed to be just a charade - and strode off.  
  
Lupin stuck his hands in his pockets. "Well, guess I should pack," he said lightly. "I'll let you know when we're leaving." He gave Amy a hug before going in another direction, up a set of circular stairs to his room.  
  
Hermione finally set her quill down, looking at the boys. "That's our cue to leave," she said softly.  
  
Nodding, Harry and Ron got up and followed her out the door.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The next night, Dumbledore made an announcement about how Professor Snape had been suddenly called away and Madam Amy would be taking his place until he returned. Even the Slytherins couldn't really scowl at this, not when Draco gained an even more malicious glint in his eye at the news.  
  
"How good is she at Potions, do you suppose?" Ginny asked when they were again back in the Common Room. She and Hermione were - what else? - knitting, while Harry was teaching Ron how to play War with Exploding Snap cards.  
  
"She has to be good," Hermione argued. "I mean, Healer . . . that's about as advanced as you can get, right up there with Auror, and no doubt she had to have fantastic NEWTs, including Potions."  
  
"And as a teacher?" Harry asked. "Look, since we both had the same card, we put down two facedown - yeah - and flip up another."  
  
"Hah!" Ron said with satisfaction as he won the double round, adding those cards to what until then had been his diminishing pile.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Knitting's a bit different than Potions, isn't it?"  
  
"Like there's much to Potions," Ron snorted, wrinkling his nose as he lost a high card. "Put the directions on the board and then walk around mocking the people who can't follow them properly. Gee, sounds difficult."  
  
"But then you have to test them," Hermione argued, "and know exactly how good it is from those tests."  
  
"Well, we'll find out on Monday, won't we?"  
  
Harry received an owl on Monday.  
  
Harry -  
  
Don't hate me (hah!) but I need the time to organize, Sev didn't leave very good notes. No O, this morning, same time next Monday.  
  
Amy  
  
Ron leaned over to read over his shoulder. "Cool, you can help me on the Dark Arts essay. Why shouldn't werewolves, vampires, and other part-humans be allowed to have jobs?"  
  
Harry followed him into the library, though, the longer he stared at his essay, the more he hated it. Finally he tore the sheet of parchment in two - Ron went white; "What are you doing, you spent hours on that!" - and grabbed a fresh roll, arguing just the opposite of what they were supposed to. "Vampires, werewolves, and other part humans should be allowed to have jobs," he muttered as he restarted the essay. He was almost done when the time came to head down to the dungeons, and Ron was still in a state of shock.  
  
"Harry, Defense Against the Dark Arts is your best subject," he argued. "You're just asking for a 'T' on that essay, you're not answering any of his questions the way he wants you to -"  
  
"Ron, look at Lupin," Harry shot back, lowering his voice as they entered the classroom to take their usual places. "Do you honestly think he shouldn't be employed?"  
  
That shut him up.  
  
Amy came into the classroom on time, wearing robes that were a dark maroon. "Good morning, everyone," she said, rather cheerfully for Potions. "Now, before we begin, you're a lesson behind the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. I was going over your schedules and everyone has Friday afternoon free. I propose a make-up class, first thing after lunch. Comments?"  
  
"Do we have any homework?" Draco drawled.  
  
"An essay on the different strength of sleeping draughts, yes. Write that down so you won't forget. Sixteen inches, please."  
  
Hermione immediately dove into her bag for her homework planner, though hers was silent.  
  
Seamus raised his hand. "Due Friday?"  
  
"No weekend homework."  
  
The class started murmuring to themselves. Amy held up a hand. "Your essay due first thing next Monday. Class on Friday. Agreed?"  
  
General assent.  
  
"Good. Now, today we - and by 'we' I mean 'you'" - she grinned, actually getting a chuckle or at least a weak smile from every person in the room - "will be making one of the simplest sleeping draughts, meant only for a full night's dreamless sleep. You know the drill." Two flicks of her wand and the supply cupboard was open, the instructions on the board, and the class moved to begin.  
  
It was certainly less stressful than a normal class. About ten minutes in, Amy called, "Don't forget to read all the instructions. As this can be a difficult potion to work well, you'll see periodic descriptions of what it should look like. Should you find a problem with your brew and have no idea how to fix it, alert me, as it may just be easiest to start form the beginning."  
  
Neville, whose caldron held something the color of lead when it should have been a soft pink, gulped and looked around nervously. Hermione was next to him and, taking a deep breath, she began to help him put it to rights, completing her own at the same time.  
  
They all finished at slightly different times, some having had to start over, others having made quick fixes, but eventually all bottles were corked and labeled on Snape's large black desk. Amy looked them all over as the class washed their hands in the icy spurt from the gargoyles mouth. "Let's see, five points to Gryffindor for a fine fix without any teacher intervention, five more for those willing to admit they'd messed up and started over, and five to Slytherin for the same. Good, scurry on to lunch."  
  
"Ten points for us," Hermione said, grinning at Neville as he passed. "And only five for them!"  
  
"That's because we have you, Hermione," Ron said, though his ears turned pink as he said it, though she blushed, as well.  
  
"I suppose you think you're really something, Granger," Malfoy said as he passed, flanked, as every, by Crabbe and Goyle. "Your ego's too big to ever let you think you're in over your head and one day that's going to get you in trouble."  
  
"Ignore him," Harry muttered as her eyes narrowed, glaring daggers at the retreating boys' backs. "He's just mad he couldn't have done it."  
  
She shook her head. "Whatever Professor Lupin, Snape, and Tonks are up to, I hope it works. And I hope it hurts him, too. Come on, I'm starving. Let's eat."  
  
* * * * *  
  
A notice appeared on the bulletin board the second week of October, announcing a Hogsmeade visit the day before Halloween, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione had other things on their minds: homework, yes, but mostly Quidditch practice. Hermione had managed to convince Harry that they should take at least one night off a week, so Tuesdays found them in front of the Common Room fire, books piled around them as they hurriedly finished essays or researched a particularly tricky counter curse. The DA was still on Harry's mind, and they somehow managed at least a weekly meeting, though it was still hard to find a time that satisfied everyone. Harry had taken to informing Amy of when they were meeting instead of Professor Tobias, especially after he had handed in a certain werewolf, vampire, and other part-humans essay, one they had yet to get back.  
  
Two Saturdays before Halloween Harry awoke suddenly at six in the morning. He'd been having a dream, one of those disconcerting falling ones, he was sure, but that was driven from his mind and he sat up quickly. Quidditch. His first game as captain. For some reason that made him feel as though he'd just eaten ten Peppermint Toads. It shouldn't make any difference, really, but it did. Quickly he dressed, trying not to disturb the others but, when he got down to the Common Room, he found the most comfortable chair taken.  
  
"Hi," Ron said, staring into the fire. "I don't think I'm ready for this."  
  
"More ready than last year," Harry pointed out, sinking onto a sofa. "And at least it's not Slytherin."  
  
He snorted. "That doesn't mean they can't sing."  
  
Around six thirty Ginny came down to join them. Hermione followed fifteen minutes later and Colin came down the boys' staircase soon after that. It was a mark of his nervousness that he only grinned weakly at Harry, taking a seat in silence. It seemed only the Beaters were not worried about the game, but then, as Ron pointed out, they were probably too thick to remember they had a game to play.  
  
"Breakfast," Harry grunted when it was sufficiently late, suddenly relating to Oliver Wood in a way he really didn't think could have been possible. The team trooped down to breakfast and, though Harry dished out ample portions to everyone, they mostly moved it around on their plates, Harry included. Not for the first time he realized he would be playing against Cho, and that in itself was enough for him to push away the half eaten bits of toast and grimace slightly.  
  
"Where are they?" Ginny murmured as the sun rose progressively higher. "We can't play without Beaters . . ."  
  
Dennis Creevy bolted into the Great Hall, weaving his way in and out of the seventh year Hufflepuffs that dwarfed him. "Harry!" he gasped, clutching a stitch in his side. "You're two men short, the Beaters - they -"  
  
Harry felt the blood drain from his face. "They what, Dennis?"  
  
"They mistook the Vanishing Cabinet for a door."  
  
Stunned silence.  
  
"Professor McGonnagal is trying to extract them from the sinks on the second floor girl's bathroom, but they won't be able to play."  
  
Harry threw down his fork. "Come on," he said to his team, saying nothing more until they had reached the Quidditch pitch. "If we forfeit this game, the Cup's as good as gone."  
  
"Well, then how are we going to do it, Harry?" Ron asked, freckles standing out clearly against his slightly green skin.  
  
He began to pace. "Hermione," he said quickly. "Is there anything in the rules about players being able to - to play with balls other than those specified for their position?"  
  
"Only the Snitch, Harry, no one's allowed to touch that but the Seeker, but you can't go around with a bat, you'd never see it -"  
  
"Okay, look." Harry drew his teammates into a huddle. "Hermione and Ginny: could you handle both a Beater bat and the Quaffle?"  
  
They shared a look. "Just you," Ginny said to her friend. "You be our Beater, Colin and I will handle the Quaffle, and Harry had better catch that Snitch without delay."  
  
"We are so dead," Ron proclaimed, but the school was coming down to take their places in the stands and Harry moved his team into the locker room to change. Hermione took a bat, turning it over in her sweaty hands, though her face was set.  
  
"Time," Harry said, and, as they moved out onto the field, Professor Tobias announced them.  
  
"He used to be a Keeper, I think," Ginny said grimly to the call of "Granger, Weasley, Creevy, Weasley, and Potter!"  
  
"Captains shake hands," Madam Hooch said, and Harry gripped Alex Hayes' hand firmly. The boy offered him a smile, and Harry made an attempt to return it. At the call of "Mount your brooms!" Harry sung a leg over his trusty Firebolt, and he was off at the sound of the whistle, soaring high above the stadium.  
  
"Weasley in control of the Quaffle!" The professor's magnified voice echoed around the stadium. "She passes to Creevy, he avoids a Bludger, he shoots - Gryffindor goal!"  
  
Harry did a loop-the-loop, trying to tell himself that this would work, it had to work, he had to fins the Snitch . . . For the first time he glanced over at the blue-robed figure who had been watching him closely, starting when he realized it wasn't Cho.  
  
Their Seeker was a boy, second year by the size of him, wearing thick horn- rimmed glasses, with blonde curls falling across his forehead. A gasp from the crowd brought him back to the game: the Snitch was flitting around Gryffindor's goalposts. Harry grabbed his broom tightly, urging it forward, but he had to duck to avoid Ron as he dove for a save and, in that instant, the Snitch was gone.  
  
"'s all right, Harry," Ron gasped, throwing the Quaffle back into play. "Hermione's already clubbed them twice, it's great . . ."  
  
"Great" was actually a true statement: she had taken to being a Beater as naturally has Harry had taken to flying. "And it's Weasley with the Quaffle, Weasley blocked by Roberts, Roberts speeding toward the goal, Roberts is blocked by Creevy - look at him fly! Wait - what was that?"  
  
They all knew what it was, and Harry's problem was that the other Seeker was closer, in the better position to strike, but the Firebolt was gaining, the gold was glinting just on the other side of a Ravenclaw Chaser, their Seeker didn't want to get in the way, Harry knocked him aside . . . just a little further . . . his fingers closed around the cold metal, wings beating uselessly against them, raising it high and not even looking at the Chaser, who took it upon himself to punch him in the stomach, winding him, throwing him off balance . . . The fall was in slow motion, it was thirty feet to the ground at least . . .  
  
Ginny was closest, and she managed to grab his arm, but her grip was not secure and she was only managing to slow him slightly, not to stop him. Madam Hooch was at the other end of the field, she'd never make it in time, especially when she was yelling at Ravenclaw . . .  
  
A voice below them shouted something. Harry caught a glimpse of the relief on Ginny's face as they slowed, stopped, and he clambered onto the back of her broom, grabbing her around the waist as she soared up and allowed him to retrieve his Firebolt. "Thanks," Harry gasped as they touched down.  
  
Hermione came rushing toward them, bat still in hand. "Oh, Harry, are you all right? Amy stopped your fall, you're lucky, I don't know that one yet . . ."  
  
Amy was beside him, putting a hand on his forehead. "Are you all right?"  
  
He almost laughed. "I'm fine, really - we won, Hermione, Ron said you were amazing -"  
  
"Too right she was!" Ron called, circling down to join them.  
  
"Harry, Harry! We won, Harry, I scored!" Colin was zipping around over their heads like Pig when he was exited, a small bundle of way too much energy.  
  
Amy squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Promise me you'll have some chocolate at the party and I think you'll be okay."  
  
Grinning, he waved to show he heard, as it was about then that the rest of Gryffindor House converged on him, burying him under pats on the bag and enthusiastic hugs. 


	7. Chapter Seven

The wind had a bite to it as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny made their way down to Hogsmeade. "What's up with Cho?" Harry asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. She had failed to attend the latest DA meeting.  
  
"Honestly," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes. "She was cut from the team less than a week before the game and replaced with a second year last- minute. That's not exactly something to cheer you up."  
  
"That, and rumor has it Roger Davies was only keeping her on the team last year because he wanted her to go out with him," Ginny added. "Stupid git."  
  
"At least she was better than what's-his-face," Ron argued, stumbling over his untied shoelace and dropping to one knee to fix it.  
  
"Potter."  
  
Harry turned around, trying not to make a face. "Malfoy."  
  
Draco jerked his head, indicating he wanted to speak to Harry alone, but he didn't move.  
  
"Problem with your neck?" Hermione asked icily. "Perhaps your aunt should take a look at it."  
  
"A word, Potter," the pale boy said with a glare at her. "Just the two of us."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Anything you want to me can be said in front of them."  
  
Draco's mouth twitched, but then he walked away, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to hurry to catch up.  
  
"What was that about?" Ron asked, standing with a quizzical look at the three Slytherins. "Come to think of it, why hasn't he been bothering us like usual?"  
  
"He wants to get Harry on his side, I wager, but he doesn't really know how to make friends," Hermione said wryly. "He's used to buying or bullying them."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, I could do with a Butterbeer."  
  
"Good thing we don't need to buy your friendship," Ron muttered so the others didn't hear. "I'd imagine we wouldn't have enough."  
  
Harry shoved him playfully into the doorway, running in first and getting the drinks himself.  
  
"What do you think it means?" Ginny asked when they had taken a seat, thoughtfully swirling her drink.  
  
The other three shared a look. "What do we think what means?" Hermione asked.  
  
"The rat poison is by the snake or whatever," she answered as though it should have been obvious.  
  
Harry shrugged. "Snake. Come on, Ginny, don't you get that part?"  
  
"Rat poison, then."  
  
Ron frowned. "Something to kill Wormtail?"  
  
"Something to kill Wormtail? What is he, immortal?" Harry snorted. "Maybe they mean Wormtail himself."  
  
"So then why are they go - have they gone?" Hermione asked skeptically. "What's to be gained by killing him?"  
  
"Well, isn't he kind of You-Know-Who's right hand man?" Ron laughed at his own joke.  
  
Hermione sighed wearily. She checked her watch. "Half an hour."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I was talking to Ginny," she said coolly. "Ginny, mum, and I are meeting Amy in Gladrags in half an hour to pick out her wedding dress. Tonks was supposed to come too, but . . ." Hermione shrugged. "All she said was to get something that looked good, not that looked like a stupid cake topper."  
  
"Wizard weddings still have cake?" Harry asked, interested.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, though she explained anyway. "Wizard weddings are much like Muggle weddings, except they are performed by any witch or wizard who is a member of the Order of Merlin, whatever class. They've chosen Dumbledore, of course. He wed your parents."  
  
Harry shrugged non-committally, but Ginny piped up, "Amy was your mum's maid of honor. Don't you have pictures?"  
  
He blinked. Well, sure, and he'd only studied the best man after he'd first heard about Sirius, in this same room, in fact, though he'd not given thought to the maid of honor.  
  
Twenty minutes later they left the Three Broomsticks, Hermione and Ginny going one way, Harry and Ron the other, to look in at Zonko's - "Fred and George have much better stuff," Ron muttered, saving his gold to send to them; "besides, they give a family discount" - and then on to Honeydukes, where they came out with pockets stuffed full of candies of all variety, catching sight of Amy, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione. "Hey!" Ron yelled, waving, and they stopped and waited for the boys to catch up.  
  
"Hello, Ron, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said, smoothing her hair back into its bun.  
  
"Hey, Harry." Amy grinned, cheeks pink and flushed. "You should see the pattern we found, it's absolutely perfect."  
  
"And the material's just amazing," Hermione continued. "It looks like it's in candlelight, really it's amazing."  
  
They spent the rest of the way up to the castle listening to dress descriptions, Harry and Ron with only half an ear, but they separate at the gate, Mrs. Weasley to Apparate home, Amy to go up to her rooms, Ron and Harry to deposit their packages in the Common Room, and Hermione and Ginny straight to dinner. Harry was so eager to get downstairs to eat that he didn't notice a package in the pile he dumped on his bed, one he himself had not bought, hurrying after Ron to get to dinner.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry noticed the package when he was clearing things off his bed to sleep that night, picking up those he knew he had bought and storing them in his trunk, stopping short when he realized there was one left. "Strange," he muttered, looking at it. "Ron, is that yours?"  
  
"Is what mine?" Ron surfaced from his own trunk, a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans in hand.  
  
"That," Harry said, gesturing to where the brown paper wrapped object lay benign - or perhaps rather threateningly - on top of his sheets.  
  
His friend frowned, giving him a strange look. "Umm, sure, Harry. It's mine."  
  
"Oh, Well, then." Harry picked it up and held it out to him, but the red head backed up suddenly. "What is it?"  
  
"That's what I was thinking," Ron managed, looking back and forth from Harry's hand to his face. "Harry, there's nothing there."  
  
Harry laughed nervously. "Of course there's something there, I found it in with my things."  
  
"Harry. I don't see anything.."  
  
He frowned, slowly turning the package over to look at it. There was no writing on the brown paper, though the twine around it was neatly tied. "You don't see it."  
  
"No."  
  
Seeing packages no one else can see isn't a good thing, even in the wizarding world. Harry almost chuckled at that, but he had no idea what he held in his hand or whether or not it was dangerous. Hearing footsteps on the stairs he quickly tossed it - whatever it was - into his trunk, hopped into bed, and pulled the curtains around himself before Ron could ask anything else. It was a long time before he fell asleep.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The Halloween feast would have been much more fun had Harry not had the package hanging over his head. He didn't want to take it to Dumbledore - the headmaster was busy enough as it was - but he just couldn't figure it out on his own. Something only he could see . . . Harry felt incredibly stupid when he caught sight of Amy leaving the head table. "Don't wait for me," he told Hermione and Ron, who looked as though they had just stuffed themselves to the brim.  
  
Amy was almost out of the Hall when he caught up with her. "Some feast, wasn't that?" she said, smiling. "Durmstrang could take a few tips . . . what's up?"  
  
"I need your help." Quickly he explained about the package. Instead of looking alarmed, she only looked more intrigued.  
  
"Bring that up to my office," she said slowly, running a finger over her lower lip in thought. "I'll fetch Henry, just in case."  
  
Five minutes later the three of them were grouped around Amy's desk, Harry looking at the two of them. "Nothing," Professor Tobias proclaimed. "Absolutely nothing."  
  
Amy squinted, tilting her head. "Harry, I want you to open it and describe to us what's inside it."  
  
It did not help him at all that they both had their wands at the ready. Slowly he unknotted the twine, sliding the paper off. It was - "A globe," he said, slightly miffed. "One of those Muggle toys where the snowflakes swirl around inside over a scene. Except this looks like glitter. It's a forest." Indeed, the entire base of the glass ball was packed with what appeared to be evergreens.  
  
Amy's wand lowered. "It's a secret. Harry, can you see anything in it?"  
  
"What'm I supposed to be looking for, or is that a secret, too?" he asked, trying not to sound too rude.  
  
Professor Tobias laughed. "No, Harry. What you hold in your hands is the physical representation of the location of a secret - or more than one - that you've kept in your lifetime. In the Department of Mysteries there is a forest of sorts: the trees and branches are lies people have told, while the roots are secrets people have kept. You know, lies rooted in secrets, it's all rather poetic."  
  
"And that explains why only you can see it," Amy continued when Harry looked rather frustrated. "You see, were you to actually go down to Level Nine, you would see what appeared to be a normal forest, except made out of misty blue crystal. It's 'planted' in a glass floor, rather disconcerting to see the roots, too. Anyway, it'd just look like a normal forest to a man who had never told a lie or kept a secret in his entire life."  
  
"And to a non-fictional character?"  
  
Amy shrugged. "There's writing on the branches and such. Every lie you've told and every secret you've kept. People can only read things that are not their own when the secret-keeper has told them the secret, or the lie. I must've brushed up against one of yours during a lesson, that's why I can almost see it." She gestured to the snow globe in his hand.  
  
Harry blinked. "Secret Keeper."  
  
Professor Tobias nodded. "Yes, you recognize it as the name of one involved in a Fidelus Charm. It's one and the same. In fact, the idea for the charm came from the Forest of Secrets."  
  
"That's what it's called?"  
  
"Sometimes the Forest of Shadows, by those who like to keep it poetic."  
  
Amy was looking at the brown paper wrapping Harry had taken off it. "You can't see what's covering it until the person with the secret - in this case you - takes it off," she explained at his puzzled look. "There are more rules than that, but basically anyone can see this now."  
  
"What good's that do?" Harry asked, setting the Secret Finder on her desk.  
  
Wordlessly, Amy held it out to him so that the paper that had been on this inside faced out.  
  
Harry -  
  
Keep this safe. Either that, or destroy it. Ask Amy, she'll know how.  
  
RJL  
  
Harry blinked. "You mean I can't just throw it into the fire or something?"  
  
"Try dropping it," Amy said grimly.  
  
He did one better: Harry threw the glass sphere down onto the stone floor, where it merely bounced heavily a couple times and rolled to a stop. Not a scratch.  
  
"Nothing works," Professor Tobias said. "Unlike the prophecy spheres, Secrets and Lies are more carefully guarded."  
  
"But Professor Lupin said you know how to destroy it," Harry said, turning to Amy. "So there has to be some way."  
  
She winced, looking warily at the Dark Arts professor. "I'd rather you kept it safe for now. If it's information that would harm them, perhaps it would help us. At least," she continued, "until Remus and the others get back."  
  
Harry stooped down to pick up the globe, just the right size to cup in two hands. "Where do I hide this, then?"  
  
"Well," Professor Tobias said, "no one will see it. Someplace where it won't accidentally roll away. The bottom of your trunk might work. Wrap it in something nasty first, a pair of old socks or whatnot so no one in his right mind would try to disturb it."  
  
Harry nodded, slipping the sphere into his pocket. "All right, then. When - when are they going to get back?"  
  
"Who knows?" Amy asked grimly, picking up the paper and setting fire to it with her wand, watching the ashes crumble away.  
  
Nodding his thanks to both of them, Harry left, the Secret safe in his pocket.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Ron sighed, flopping back on the grass to show just how exhausting Quidditch practice had been, though the November chill would prevent him from staying there for long. "I don't get it," he complained, throwing an arm across his eyes. "Harry has this Secret Finder but only he can see the Secret anyway?"  
  
Hermione heaved a sigh, broomstick slung over her shoulder. "Okay, let's try this again: you can only read the Secrets if you know what the Secret says."  
  
"Then it's not a secret anymore!"  
  
She gave Harry a look that said, "Is this really worth explaining again?" "Let's try an example, shall we? And I'll speak slowly and use small words and concepts easy for you to understand."  
  
Ron glared at her. She took that to mean "Go for it."  
  
"Somewhere in the Department of Mysteries there is a tree branch or something that says, 'In her forth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione Granger attended the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum.'"  
  
"That's not a secret, everyone knows," Ron said testily.  
  
"If you or Harry had tried looking at that Secret anytime before the Yule Ball" - she was ignoring him pointedly - "then you would not have been able to read about it. Ginny and I, however, would have seen it clearly. Then, once you finally realized who my date was, the writing would have become clear."  
  
"Is that still there somewhere?" Harry wanted to know.  
  
Hermione nodded. "It's an endless forest, really. That, and - once a secret no longer has to b kept secret - it's shoved to the sides and back. All the really important ones are somewhere in the middle, so they say. Those are the ones we'd really want to read, especially if they're Voldemort's secrets." Ron shuddered. "Oh, grow [i]up[/i]!"  
  
"Not that, I'm cold!" he replied angrily.  
  
Harry sighed, turning back to Hermione. "So this Secret I'm keeping - there's a way for me to see where it is?"  
  
"Using the globe, yes. That's why they need Secret Finders, because they keep moving."  
  
"But then it's probably somewhere in the middle of the Forest, isn't it? If it's something I really need to keep hidden. Because Voldemort won't be able to read it, would he?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Harry, he's been inside your head more than we like to admit. And if Amy could almost see your Secret Finder just from Occlumency lessons . . ." She trailed off, spreading her hands as if to say, "He might be able to."  
  
He sighed again, crossing his arms as well as he could with the Firebolt in his hands and hunkering down inside his robes as the wind really did have a bite to it. "The only problem is, I have no idea what sort of Secret I'm keeping."  
  
Hermione could only shrug again. A moment later Ron popped up. "C'mon, let's get inside, I'm freezing."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry held up his hand as soon as he opened the door to Amy's office. "Don't hit me with Occlumency yet, okay?" he requested, as she had taken to lessening the structure of their lessons and simply probing his mind whenever it pleased her. "I need to discuss something with you."  
  
"Fire away." She gestured him into the opposite armchair, warming her hands on the cheery flames dancing in the fireplace.  
  
"Look, I was thinking."  
  
"Good."  
  
"And, well . . ." In all reality, it sounded too dramatic, too contrived. "What if . . . well . . . what if it's not really a Secret Finder for one of my Secrets?"  
  
Amy blinked, turning to look at him closely. "Go on."  
  
"What if . . . what if it's one of Voldemort's, one he needs to do . . . whatever . . . and I can see it because of . . . you know." Harry gestured to his scar. And what if I was wrong last year and the weapon he was searching for isn't me?  
  
She frowned, running a finger across her bottom lip in concentration. "If that turns out to be true, then the best thing to do would be to get rid of it. But that in itself presents a problem."  
  
"Because Professor Tobias said a Secret Finder can't be destroyed?"  
  
"Oh, no, that bit's easy. I've destroyed a couple myself, actually, my own. Though" - her frown deepened - "I wonder if they might have moved again . . . still, once the Secret Finder's been destroyed, the only way to find them is to go through and read every bloody branch in the forest."  
  
Harry sighed. "Then what do I do?"  
  
Amy shrugged. "Wait for Remus to come back. He apparently knows what's up with that thing. And, until then . . . look, I don't think either of us is in Occlumency moods today - just wait, you've an awful potion to brew next hour - so . . ." Rising, she went to her desk and took something out of her bottom desk drawer. It was the Pensieve, and, as she set it on top of her desk, she removed a memory from her head and swirled it into the already shining liquid within. "Come on, I've wanted to look at this one again for ages. It's right after your parents graduated - Lily and I met at James' house during winter holidays their seventh year, you know how Sirius was over there all the time. Well, I took to visiting on Sundays during the summer, as well. The Potters - your grandparents - loved having us, and I explained to Mum that it was neutral ground and maybe I could convince Siri to join the Dark wizards." She shrugged again. "Apparently I'm a failure. Come on." Taking his hand, she practically dove into the bowl.  
  
The house that materialized in front of them was two stories, stone, and surrounded by hedges and trees. "Godric's Hollow," Amy informed him, looking up and down the street. It was a bright, sunshiny summer morning. "James inherited."  
  
Harry swallowed. "This is the house . . ."  
  
"That was destroyed on Halloween fifteen years ago," Amy completed grimly. "Yes . . . oh, here I come. I'm fourteen," she informed him, gesturing to the girl riding up on a bike. Her hair was long, her bangs thick, and her nose had not yet been broken. Harry could see why she had hated it. The young Amy leapt off her bike, walking it up the path, but - instead of ringing the front doorbell - she went around the side of the house.  
  
"Come on," the elder Amy said, looking bemused at her younger self.  
  
The backyard had tables set up. The four Marauders were already there, along with Lily, all of them dressed in jeans and T-shirts like Amy was. Stowing her bike by the house, Amy went to join them. "Hey, how've you been?" Lily asked, giving her a hug as she joined her best friend on the bench.  
  
"Fine, and you?"  
  
"Just great," Lily assured her, green eyes darting to James on her other side, busy describing a Quidditch play to Sirius and Remus. Sirius, however, held up a hand to stop him.  
  
"Introduction. Point." Amy was looking at him expectantly.  
  
"Counter point," Sirius returned almost lazily.  
  
"Point."  
  
"Counter point."  
  
Harry looked at the other Amy, confused, but she shushed him as her other self again said, "Point."  
  
"Counter poi - Hey, isn't that one more than last week?"  
  
Amy laughed, shoving her glasses up on her nose. "Maybe I've been thinking."  
  
Her brother frowned. "Give me a week. Let Mum think you're making headway."  
  
Remus blinked. He looked a bit paler than usual - Harry assumed the full moon was not too far away - but that did not stop him from helping himself to the basket of crisps on the table. "Umm . . . what and who, though not necessarily in that order?"  
  
James laughed, sliding an arm around Lily. Harry watched closely as she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and he noticed his dad's hair was not as messed up as it had been in Snape's memory. Then again, this was two years later. "That's Adele Mavis -"  
  
"Amy." Both Amys corrected him at the same time, and the younger one laughed. "Sorry, knee-jerk reaction."  
  
"Still is," the older one murmured.  
  
"She's my sister," Sirius explained. "And, well, you all know about my mum . . . that's our weekly argument about whether or not I'm disgracing the family name. Over and done with. Pass the dip."  
  
Harry laughed. "That's an argument? Point and counter-pointing?"  
  
"It kept us amused." Amy looked wistful as the conversation faded out, though the picture stayed clear. "You'd never guess it was Peter just by looking at them, would you?" The boy, round-cheeked and flushed, was currently trying to wrestle some carrot sticks away form Sirius, though the darker young man eventually won. "No one even thought it was him. Sirius suspected Remus, and Remus suspected Sirius, and neither of them wanted to let me alone with the other if he could help it. Then, after Sirius was taken away . . ." She shrugged. "Remus felt justified, but betrayed just the same. And it didn't help that the master plan put me in a flat with Severus, which just made Remus worse."  
  
Harry nodded, though his eyes were glued to his parents. Lily and Amy were chatting away, leaving the boys to whatever conversation they were having, though James' arm was around Lily's waist and she was using hi as a back rest. "So she really stopped hating him?"  
  
"I believe it's more along the lines of, 'So his ego really deflated?'" Amy corrected. "He calmed down a lot after fifth year, really. It was a great improvement. Seriously, all throughout their seventh year Lil and I were pen pals - well, not just then, we still wrote . . . but anyway, her letters were entire rolls of parchment, and darned if I couldn't get more than three paragraphs about her life other than how cute James Potter was, or how he had certainly changed over the summer, or how she thought she was developing a crush on him . . ."  
  
They only lingered a while longer, until Amy checked her watch and realized they should return to the present, whisking them back to her office and sending him to get his things before they had Potions.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Ron was scribbling hurriedly on his Potions essay at breakfast. "Two more weeks," he muttered faintly, grabbing his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a swig. "Two weeks and it's winter holidays, two more weeks . . ."  
  
Hermione sniffed superiorly. "Well, Ron, if you had done your work instead of playing chess with Harry all weekend, this wouldn't be happening, would it?"  
  
"Go to Arithmancy and let me have an hour and a half to finish," he grunted, paging though a book from the library.  
  
Harry sighed, concentrating on the toast in his hands. Quidditch had slacked off slightly, there being no more games before Holidays, and he was getting sick of the continual arguing. He stirred the scrambled eggs on his plate with entirely no intention of taking a bite. Sighing again, his gaze wandered to the Head Table.  
  
Snape's empty seat was there, next to Amy, and she had been looking a bit more worried than usual as it remained empty. Snape, Tonks, and Professor Lupin had been gone a long time, longer than she had been hoping they would take. At the moment Amy and Professor McGonnagal were deep in a discussion about something. Dumbledore had the tips of his long fingers together as he was listening to Mad-Eye Moody, though his own blue eyes were semi-focused on the enchanted ceiling, a dull gray. Moody broke off mid-sentence, electric blue eye swiveling toward the door. Muttering something to the headmaster, he heaved himself to his mismatched feet and politely interrupted Amy. Harry was wondering what Moody was saying when Hermione grabbed his arm. "Look!"  
  
Snape was in the doorway. Well, he was leaning on the doorframe; looking exhausted, paler than usual, and completely beat, the Potions Professor barely had the energy to raise his eyes to meet Amy's much less smile.  
  
Amy froze a moment before shoving back her chair, dodging a few second year Ravenclaws, and practically sprinting up the aisle, slowing before she met him and gathering him into a gentle - yet obviously relived - hug.  
  
Ron frowned slightly. "But much, isn't it?" he said in an undertone, missing the inkwell as he tried to dip his quill.  
  
Lavender and Parvati giggled. "It's sweet," Lavender said. "You know, I hadn't noticed before."  
  
"Noticed what?" Harry asked, watching Amy assist Snape away, probably toward the hospital wing.  
  
"How much they look alike," Parvati said, and then she giggled again.  
  
Hermione frowned. "Look alike?"  
  
Lavender nodded, giggling, as she gathered her things and the two of them set off for Divination.  
  
"Look alike my foot," Ron muttered, finally getting into the ink pot. "He's a slimy old vulture and she's -"  
  
"Just as pale," Hermione said, frowning slightly and looking thoughtful. "And they have the same haircut, you have to admit . . ."  
  
"Yeah, except it looks good on her," Ron countered.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, shouldn't you -"  
  
"Be letting you go off to class?" he finished for her. "Yes, I think I should." Then, as if to fend off all thought of further conversation, he pulled another book toward him and literally buried his nose in it.  
  
After narrowing her eyes at Ron a moment, she turned to Harry. "Well, I suppose that means your lesson's been canceled," Hermione said, slinging her book bag over her shoulder as she stood.  
  
He shrugged although, a moment later, Harry, too, left the Great Hall, making tracks toward the hospital wing. 


	8. Chapter Eight

For once the door was closed and locked, though his curiosity was too great to let him stay away. Raising a hand, Harry was just about to knock when the door opened and Moody beckoned him in.  
  
The last bed at the far end on the right was the center of attention. Dumbledore stood quietly at its foot as Amy bent over its occupant. Though she looked concerned, the healer seemed convinced that no permanent harm would come to the patient. Snape was in the way of Harry seeing who it was.  
  
Nodding once, Amy straightened and went to a large cupboard nearby, selecting a few bottles and some bandages. "Severus, you need to rest," she said briskly, depositing them on the bedside table and straightening them out.  
  
Snape shook his head weakly. "No time for that now, Amy, I -"  
  
But she had a steely glint in her eye as she came around to his side of the bed. "Are you the healer here or am I?"  
  
"Amy -"  
  
"It certainly won't kill you to sit," she snapped, uncharacteristically brisk as she took his shoulders and - well, she didn't force him; it was more like controlling his fall into the chair behind him. Leaning across the bed, Amy snagged a bottle and a cup, pouring out some steaming potion and thrusting into his hands. "Drink that. Then talk." Leaving him there, she returned to the other side of the bed and Harry caught sight of the head on the pillow - Lupin. An icicle slid near his heart as he saw his former professor's pale face and the cold sweat on his brow.  
  
Moody, whose eye had been turned all the way around in his socket, suddenly moved to open the door again, and Charlie Weasley fairly flew in, skidding to a stop and looking around wildly. "Where is she?" he asked in a voice almost as hoarse as Lupin's.  
  
Amy took a deep breath, though her eyes were on her hands, steady as she mixed another potion. "Captured."  
  
"Lured away," Snape corrected, slumped back in the chair and - for once in his life - looking unintimidating. "They had her mother." His voice was dull and lifeless, something like that of the young Barty Crouch after he had partaken of a truth potion.  
  
Amy looked up sharply. "They had Anna."  
  
He nodded once. "That letter was real, written in her hand while she was under the Imperius Curse. They were right; it made Tonks more willing to take risks, to try and save her."  
  
Vaguely Harry remembered the letter Tonks had received, saying her mother had joined Bellatrix Lestrange as a Death Eater. Still, he stayed silent, trying his best to blend in with the shadows.  
  
"All is not lost, Charlie," Dumbledore said gently, folding his hands into his sleeves.  
  
"Then where -?"  
  
Silently Dumbledore pointed a long finger to a cage on a table in the back. Charlie blinked, hesitating a moment before going for a closer look. "And he -?"  
  
"Wormtail most unfortunately had his facts wrong," Snape said dryly. "It's silver bullets, not silver in any form."  
  
Harry blinked. Silver hand . . . a werewolf lying still . . . "Amy?" he asked hesitantly, stepping forward.  
  
She lifted her head, quickly covering the wounds on Lupin's chest with the sheet. "He'll be fine," she said quietly.  
  
"Given a fortnight, with rest," Snape corrected, attempting a laugh of sorts.  
  
"Yes, and it'll take you just as long if you don't finish that potion and allow yourself the rest you need," Amy snapped back at him. "Potions masters and healers make the worst patients," she muttered, dipping a cloth in cool water and wiping Lupin's forehead.  
  
Harry took a deep breath. "Is he - Wormtail, I mean - stuck as a rat, then?"  
  
Moody clunked up behind him. "You see, Potter," he said, slinging an arm around the boy's shoulders and steering him forcibly to the cage, "there's a spell to make him human again, but no spell to keep him as a rat. And by that I mean 'in rat form,' of course," the Auror said, uttering a dry laugh. "So we simply made the cage Unbreakable."  
  
Blinking in the dim light, Harry leant forward to take a closer look at the rat. Its entire right from paw was missing. "Then you took away the silver one?"  
  
Snape snorted, downing the last of his potion and leaving the goblet on a table nearby. "Damn tricky thing to do. The Dark Lord's handiwork isn't easily undone." Unconsciously the fingers of the professor's right hand strayed to his left forearm and the Mark that was hidden by his sleeve.  
  
Charlie seemed to start out of a reverie. "And did he tell you anything?" he demanded, sweeping his hair off his face with one hand and gesturing savagely to the rat with his other. "Did he give you any information about the - the you-know-what?" His stutter had been accompanied by a quick glance at Harry, the only person in the room who was not a member of the Order.  
  
"There will be time for that later," Dumbledore said softly, blue eyes resting lightly on the second eldest Weasley. "We know we only have a small window in which to ferret out information on the whereabouts and well-being of Andromeda and Nymphadora Tonks, while we can be certain that Wormtail will be safe in my office under the watchful eye of Fawkes."  
  
At the mention of Tonks, Charlie stiffened again. "How did they get her?" he asked tightly, eyes burning as he turned them on Snape. "What happened?"  
  
"We suspect the Imperius Curse again," the professor said calmly, though this was only a mask for the exhaustion he felt. Harry was surprised Snape was even answering. "She was tricked into thinking her mother was willing to come but, at the last moment, Anna seized her daughter and proceeded to drag her away. I was already giving all my energy to saving Remus; I regret that I had none left for her." Indeed, Snape almost looked regretful, although emotions usually did not find their way onto his face unless they were disgust, smugness, gloating, or utter loathing, all of which Harry had experienced for himself.  
  
Dumbledore broke the moment of silence before it could stretch too long. "Shall I cancel this morning's Potion lesson?" he asked, as though that had been the topic all along.  
  
Amy glanced up. "Mad-Eye, how good are you with advanced poisons?" she asked wearily.  
  
His blue eye swiveled. "That the lesson plan on your desk?"  
  
She nodded. "I'd be grateful."  
  
"Yes, they are already behind one lesson," Snape said, though his eyes lacked their usual piercing quality as he glanced pointedly at Amy.  
  
"No, we aren't, sir," Harry corrected. "We had a make-up day."  
  
Amy gave him a small smile, ignoring the look of - shock? Or was it pleasure? - on the professor's face.  
  
Moody emerged from Amy's office, roll of parchment under his arm. "Come on, Potter," he said, this time giving Harry a prod between the shoulder blade. "Potions calls."  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said, causing him to turn. "I trust you keep your Secrets safe."  
  
A glance at Amy told Harry how Dumbledore might have found out. "Yeah, I - I think so."  
  
The headmaster nodded. "Good. Run along; advanced poisons are not to be missed, especially if one desires to become an Auror."  
  
Managing a smile at that, Harry followed Moody out the door. The Auror made sure to lock it securely behind them  
  
* * * * *  
  
Snow fell in the last week before holidays, making the trek to the greenhouses and Hagrid's hut rather difficult. Hermione even relented and spent an evening teaching Harry and Ron the wand motion to make hot air blow out of the end so paths could be melted and robes dried.  
  
The Saturday before the last week of school, Amy invited them to the hospital wing for afternoon tea. Ginny, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were pleased to see Professor Lupin sitting up, and he even gave them a weak smile. "Wish I could join you," he said, eyeing the small table with envy, "but . . ." He indicated the steaming goblet, full of Wolfsbane Potion, and made a face.  
  
"At least it's not happening on Christmas this year," Amy said, emerging from her office with a tray of cookies and small cakes, bending to kiss his forehead before she set it down.  
  
He laughed hoarsely. "Talk about ripping the wrapping paper off presents . . ."  
  
Harry and Ron grinned at each other - he sounded much like his old self - and helped themselves to cookies, still warm, as Amy fetched a carpet bag from the corner, perching on the foot of Remus's bed and dumping the contents out on the white sheets. The boys tried not to groan as the girls looked eagerly through the selection of fake flowers.  
  
"Darker ones, we've decided," Amy said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Because it's a winter wedding."  
  
"Even if that dress doesn't come in," Lupin added sternly. "She's intent on waiting for it," he explained to the others.  
  
"With as much as that thing costs - and where would I wear it otherwise?" she demanded, plucking out a deep red rose and twirling it in her fingers.  
  
"To a Yule Ball, maybe," Hermione mused. She had picked out the lilies and baby's breath and set them aside.  
  
Ron blinked. "Wait - you're getting married at my house?"  
  
Lupin sighed. "The Bahamas are too far away. . . ."  
  
He frowned and began ticking off on his fingers. "Mum and Dad, Ginny, me, the twins and Charlie and Bill are home for the holidays, you, you" - he nodded to Lupin and Amy - "Harry . . ."  
  
Lupin rolled his eyes. "You forgot Severus."  
  
Harry chocked on a cookie. "Snape's coming?"  
  
"Amy and I are engaged, remember?" The professor's oily voice came from behind them.  
  
"Sev! Draw up a chair. Budge over, would you?" Amy asked Harry, and he obligingly scooted closer to Ron.  
  
"I only came to show you this," the professor cut in smoothly, and Harry could not help but feel more than a bit relieved. He handed her a letter, already opened.  
  
Quickly glancing at the address - it read "Professor S. Snape, Hogwarts" - Amy tore it open, eyes skimming the contents and growing wide as they did. "Oh, Severus, I'm sorry," she said, passing it to Lupin, who read it quickly.  
  
Snape shrugged, taking it back and stowing it in a pocket of his robes. "They weren't much use to me alive," he said, voice carefully neutral as he turned and left the room. After only a moment of hesitation Amy took off after him.  
  
The students turned to Professor Lupin. He sighed, running his hand through his hair and collapsing back against the pillow. "One thing you probably don't know about Severus Snape," he said heavily, "is that his parents were never accused of being Dark minded."  
  
Harry blinked. "What? But I thought Snape -"  
  
Lupin held up a hand. "He was. But his parents, although . . . well . . . rather awful, were actually enemies of Voldemort."  
  
"What does that have to do with this?" Ron asked, clearly confused.  
  
He sighed. "They were found dead in their home early this morning. Although the Ministry is keeping it quiet, they expect it was the work of the Death Eaters."  
  
Hermione and Ginny exchanged a glance, and the four of them quickly finished their tea before excusing themselves quietly.  
  
Ron snorted as they moved out into the hallway, making sure no one else was around. "His parents weren't dark, my foot!"  
  
"Well, look at Sirius," Hermione reasoned. "You know what the rest of his family was like, and he wasn't Dark."  
  
"But that's different," Ron argued.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Hermione walked away.  
  
Later that evening, Harry decided to get his dad's Invisibility Cloak out again and make a trip down to see Amy. Ron had been in a bad mood for the rest of the afternoon - Hermione was ignoring him - so Harry decided not to tell either of them where he was going, much less invite them along.  
  
The halls were deserted. Pulling the Marauder's Map from his pocket, Harry made sure Mrs. Norris was on the second floor, Filch was in the trophy room, and Snape was - he blinked. Snape was in the hospital wing, the little dot with his name pacing. Amy was there, too, though the dot labeled "Remus Lupin" had been moved back into his private room. Sighing, Harry was about to give up. Then he noticed a third dot in the Hospital Wing.  
  
Moving both silently and quickly under the cloak was something Harry should have mastered by then, and he did manage to get to the room in time to see Lucius Malfoy emerging from - a spider, maybe? Harry had seen Sirius change from dog to man enough to know that the elder Malfoy, too, was an unregistered Animagus. He barely managed to slip inside before the Death Eater shut the door firmly, locking it with a spell only a wizard could break. Snape had stopped pacing and crossed to Amy, putting a protective arm around her. Amy looked like she had been crying.  
  
"I don't know why I keep coming back here." Mr. Malfoy was taking off the thin black gloves he wore. "I just needed to know it was true."  
  
"When our Master demands something of us, we cannot refuse him, Lucius," Snape said, voice silky as ever.  
  
Mr. Malfoy took a deep breath. Harry was amazed to see some trace of emotion on his face, as if one word would send him into hysterics. "Well," he said slowly, eyes on his gloves as he folded them meticulously, "at least it's one of our own and not some - some Mudblood, or some Muggle- lover."  
  
Amy's lip trembled and it was obvious she was avoiding looking at Snape. "Lucius, I'm sorry," she said, voice breaking. "But you - there would be no question anymore about where my loyalties lie, and the Dark Lord knows this. At least Severus has managed to convince them he turned spy at You- Know-Who's downfall."  
  
Harry's mind was spinning. Snape, a Death Eater still? But Voldemort had said . . . three of them at Hogwarts: one loyal, one coward, and one who had left him forever. Moody/Barty Crouch had been the loyal follower, Harry was sure, and Karkarof had fled and failed to resurface, meaning he was the second. He might even be dead; Harry couldn't think of anyone who would miss him. That meant Snape had left him forever . . . right? Obviously, as Hermione had told them so often, the Potions professor could not have Disapparated within Hogwarts grounds.  
  
Lucius was speaking again. "I would have made you happy." He said it as though Snape were not there, and the Potions professor fixed him with a steely glare.  
  
"Sometimes we have no control over where we have to find happiness." Amy's voice was soft, though the gaze she had fixed on him was almost - Harry blinked - loving. It was the way she looked at Professor Lupin, except . . . well . . . it couldn't be. Right?  
  
Mr. Malfoy nodded once. "Very well." He turned to leave.  
  
"Lucius!" The word was torn from Amy's throat. As he turned, she shrugged off Snape's arm and ran to him. Harry took a step back in surprise, almost trodding on his robe and falling. Amy ran into Mr. Malfoy's arms, letting tears fall as she kissed him passionately. It was like a horrible car wreck, so awful Harry could not look away. Out of the corner of his eye he sensed that Snape had fixed his glare on the wall three meters to their left so he would not have to look at them.  
  
The kiss lasted a lifetime, Harry was sure, but Mr. Malfoy finally pulled back, gently unhooking her arms from behind his neck. Then, wordlessly, he unlocked the door and opened it a crack. A moment later a tarantula the size of Harry's hand scuttled out into the hallway.  
  
All business, Snape strode across the room and shut the door. "I told you that you didn't have to do that," he said almost sternly.  
  
"It was more believable that way," Amy protested, drying her eyes almost angrily on her sleeve. "I bought some wonderful mouthwash just for the occasion and plan to drink the entire bottle straight away."  
  
He frowned, crossing his arms. "He thinks you love him."  
  
"Delusions of grandeur, that." She was making faces as though trying to get a film off her tongue. "Can't even French kiss properly."  
  
"And I suppose Remus could give him a few lessons?" Snape asked with a dry smile.  
  
The grin on Amy's face quickly changed to a look of disgust. "Ew! Sev!" she admonished, cuffing him on the shoulder. "Don't even . . . I . . . That's just wrong!" she finished, shuddering for effect. "The only one Remus is going to be kissing is me, and I hope to God I never have to do anything like that again!" She gestured savagely to the door, still closed, or else Harry would have tried to slip out.  
  
"I -" Snape paled slightly, suddenly grabbing his left forearm.  
  
Amy understood. "Go on, you've no excuse tonight."  
  
"Sure, and maybe Lucius and I could carpool," he said wryly, opening the door. Harry slipped out before him and Snape hurried off down the hall, probably to Hogsmeade, Harry thought, so he could Apparate by Voldemort's side for whatever reason the Death Eaters had been summoned.  
  
Harry Amy one last look - she didn't linger, merely pushing the door shut - before heading off to bed, dearly wishing Ron and Hermione might have stayed up talking so he could get this off his chest immediately and not have to wait for morning.  
  
* * * * *  
  
In the morning, Ron and Hermione were stiff and cordial, not even looking at each other but talking normally to Harry, who couldn't understand what had caused such a thing in the first place. It wasn't until Charms that Harry was able to explain what was going on.  
  
"I don't see what the big deal is, Harry," Ron said, angrily jabbing his wand at the white rat he was supposed to be turning colors. His annoyance was more of the fact that Hermione had put hers through a rainbow before he had even managed to turn his yellow - and that the spell was nothing like what the twins had slipped him years ago.  
  
Even Hermione wasn't overly concerned. "So he's still a spy. It's not all that terrible, Harry, and it probably helps both him and Amy. She got rid of Mr. Malfoy, didn't she?"  
  
Harry shook his head, ticking off on his fingers. "One too cowardly to return, one who left Voldemort forever, and one who was his most faithful servant."  
  
They still looked blank.  
  
"The night of the third Task!" Harry hissed quietly. "There were three Death Eaters at Hogwarts: the coward, the traitor, and the servant."  
  
Ron blinked. "And we always thought the coward was Karkaroff, the traitor was Snape, and the servant was that old -  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"- pretending to be Moody," he finished. "Honestly, Hermione, didn't think you held with that kind of criminality."  
  
"Oh, it's Polyjuice Potion," she said loftily. "I happen to have a - erm - soft spot for that."  
  
After waiting for Flitwick to pass - and turning his rat a horrid shade that Hermione deemed "puce" - Harry got back down to business. "But they don't think Snape's a traitor."  
  
"Hang on." Ron sat up, scratching his chin with the tip of his wand and leaving a blue smear that neither Harry nor Hermione was inclined to point out. "You said he passed a few of them, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes . . ."  
  
"But that still only leaves us with two out of three," Hermione pointed out. "And we still are assuming Voldemort meant Crouch was his faithful servant."  
  
"He was going to kill me, remember?" Harry pointed out bitterly. "And Snape wasn't going to do anything."  
  
"But Voldemort still thinks him faithful," Hermione pondered, ignoring Ron's shudders every time that name was mentioned.  
  
Harry shrugged, poking at his rat and turning it more of an aqua than the green he was trying for. "Then it's only fair to assume there was another Death Eater at the Third Task."  
  
Hermione frowned, carefully striping the fur of her rat into a rainbow. "How many empty spaces were there in the circle?" she asked at last.  
  
Giving her a "What, you think I remember it exactly?" look, Harry found he could picture it very well. "Ummm . . . those three, the Lestranges, and probably five or six other spaces. Or ten or twelve skinny people . . ." He attempted a weak grin, trying to lighten the mood and stop the memory from progressing any further.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Another Death Eater," she muttered to herself.  
  
Harry sat straight up. "Bagman."  
  
Ron snorted. "That lout's not smart enough to be a Death Eater."  
  
"He was accused." Harry's mind was working overtime. "And he fled right after the Third Task."  
  
"Because of the goblins," Ron argued, but Hermione was looking like she had just been given her N.E.W.T.s and knew every answer perfectly.  
  
"That's right," she said softly. "He left before speaking with anyone. Besides, he was also trying to get Harry through the tasks . . ."  
  
"That makes more of a 'loyal servant,' doesn't it?" Ron was still sticking to his guns.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Then Karkaroff left him forever and Bagman was the coward."  
  
"Because he fled when I came back alive," Harry marveled. "Or - well, maybe Voldemort knew he was going to run."  
  
Hermione shrugged. "And why are you taking Occlumency lessons?"  
  
"Ah . . . good point." He smiled sheepishly.  
  
Ron looked thoroughly deflated. "Ludo Bagman, a Death Eater?" he tried one last time.  
  
"He hasn't been seen much since then," Hermione pointed out.  
  
Ron looked like he wanted to cry. "But he was the best Beater -"  
  
She gave him a Look.  
  
Ron sighed. "Ludo Bagman, a Death Eater," he agreed dejectedly.  
  
Harry nodded once. Though the information was not very encouraging, it was nice not to have a loose end hanging around.  
  
* * * * *  
  
When the list was passed around for people to sign if they were staying at Hogwarts, Harry smiled and let it pass him by. Amy was in a bit of a tizzy as holidays approached, especially with increasing popularity of Skiving Snackboxes among forth years wishing to get out of possibly being poisoned by Snape and fifth- and seventh years wanting to get out of . . . well . . . anything.  
  
When the morning came and all trunks, animals, and students were loaded onto the Hogwarts Express to go home for the holidays, Ron looked a little concerned. "We're never going to all fit at home," he muttered, casting a glance back to the castle. Harry knew he was thinking about the three people still to come: Amy, Professor Lupin, and Snape.  
  
They were met at the station by what Mr. Weasley assured them was a completely Muggle car - except for the expanding boot and back seat, of course. Mrs. Weasley looked a little too relieved to see them, but Harry didn't want to risk getting the evil eye from Hermione by asking why. She and Ron had apparently decided to drop all past spats and were acting like their old selves.  
  
Moving into the Burrow was a bit of a trick with all the Wealseys save Percy home for the holidays. The twins, Ron, and Harry were in Ron's room; Charlie, Bill, and Professor Lupin were in the twins'; Hermione, Ginny, and Amy were in Ginny's room; and Snape was in Percy's. Each of the bedrooms was utterly crowded with extra mattresses and heavy down quilts and everyone knew that they would not be spending much time there, anyway.  
  
On the second morning, Harry awoke late to the smell of something baking downstairs. Rousing Ron, the two went to investigate, pausing in shock as they caught sight of the kitchen. Where both had expected to find Mrs. Weasley, they were met with a most unlikely duo: Amy - and Snape.  
  
Amy looked slightly exasperated as Snape was placing even dollops of cookie dough on a sheet in preparation for the oven. "Sev, look: even a starving man couldn't eat that much in one sitting," she protested.  
  
"Then he can share one with his closest friends instead of swallowing them in one bite," the professor said in a clipped tone, glancing almost scornfully at a tray set out to cool. For once Harry had to agree: the cookies, though reasonable, looked rather small.  
  
"Come on," Ron hissed, plucking at Harry's sleeve and steering him into the living room where Professor Lupin was sitting with a cup of coffee and the Daily Prophet.  
  
He looked up. "Did you know," he said conversationally, "that it is highly dangerous to allow either a Healer or a Potions Professor into the kitchen?"  
  
Harry blinked, plopping down in an armchair and taking a slice of toast from a plate on the end table. "What?"  
  
The professor nodded. "You see, both professions involved exact measuring and mixing and all that, so it's generally a disaster area."  
  
"What's going on in there, then?" Ron demanded, sweeping an arm back to the kitchen.  
  
"Ah." Lupin held up a finger. "But, if both are allowed in at the same time and only once a year, and everyone else knows enough to stay away, the cookies are delicious. Just don't pick favorites."  
  
Harry and Ron shared a look. "You . . . know this from experience?"  
  
Lupin rolled his eyes. "Plenty. And let me tell you - Severus's sugar cookies are nothing to laugh at, but it's the pumpkin flavored ones that almost rival any of Amy's."  
  
Still trying to wrap his mind around Snape baking - and obviously having a hard time with it - Ron blinked. "Then they do this every Christmas?"  
  
"Every single one for years," the former professor informed him, showing that it really wasn't something so amazing by picking up the paper again. "I, of course, have learned to stay out of the kitchen until it's time to decorate the cookies."  
  
A sudden image of Snape in a pink flowered apron, lovingly applying frosting to sugar cookies and adding some rainbow sprinkles made Harry torn between laughter and a slight urge to be ill. Lupin was still talking. "Of course, this year, they can make many more to give out to the patients at St. Mungo's, as we're all supposed to help decorate."  
  
"They're all for St. Mungo's?" Noble as the idea sounded, Harry wanted cookies. The toast was just not satisfying him when their scent was wafting in from behind the closed door on the other side of the room.  
  
"Most of them," he agreed. "But they're making millions, I'm sure you'll be sick of them by the time you go back to Hogwarts."  
  
Ron was still looking like he had just hit himself with the slug curse again, so Harry grabbed his arm. "Let's go find Hermione."  
  
That afternoon found them in the kitchen, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny around a smaller card table with Amy, Lupin, and Snape at the dining room table, the cookies on the end in the middle and bowls of frosting interspersed along the way.  
  
"Remus, you're such a cheater," Amy complained.  
  
Lupin stuck his tongue out at her as he picked up another cookie and spread it with apparently white frosting. As it emerged from under his knife, the tree was now green with any number of small decorations. "This will leave more time for other things."  
  
"What other things?" Snape asked, carefully guiding some red onto a Santa hat. "You've nothing else going on right now."  
  
"But I've plenty of other things I could be doing."  
  
Amy rolled her eyes, picking up a centaur and debating over the color. "Such as?"  
  
"This." Brushing the cookie away, he slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her.  
  
"Oh, you!" But the swipe at his shoulder was playful. "Men!"  
  
"Yes?" Snape and Lupin had spoken together, though both seemed amused at this.  
  
Amy shook her head. "Hermione, you're the smart one; care to explain?"  
  
"But you're the one with the Healer Award," Hermione returned with a grin, a smear of green frosting along her jaw line as she lay her cookie next to the guys'; hers were arguable the most artistic, but Harry and Ron didn't care. Cookies were for eating, anyway, not looking at, and they had already been sure to test them out.  
  
"Healer Award, schmenaler award," Amy said dismissively. "What good does that do me?"  
  
"Gives you the gold for a wedding dress," Lupin mused. "Except, if they don't hurry up, you'll just have to send it back."  
  
Ginny laughed. "Uh-oh, Amy; he's threatening you."  
  
"Oh, he's harmless," she said offhandedly. "I checked the calendar; I'm safe."  
  
And she was, until someone - no names mentioned, but Harry was thoroughly surprised to see his Potions Professor stooping to such a level - lobbed a glob of extra frosting across the table. By the times Mrs. Weasley came in and started screeching at the three adults to clean it up, her kitchen was covered in rainbow splotches and the four teenagers slipped out, snickering behind their hands.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry awoke suddenly and completely, for a moment not knowing where he was as, in the pre-dawn gray light, members of the Chudley Cannons executed Quidditch moves around him. Lying still, he tried to remember what was making his heart pound like this.  
  
All of a sudden the dream came back to him: not the irrelevant beginning, but starting with the fall, a fall that had been haunting him for a while now. Each and every time, after he tripped and failed to hit the ground, he would pick himself up, brush himself off, and start to take a look around before being pulled from sleep by one thing or another. It was a shadowy place, with an eerie fog curling around his ankles, obscuring the floor that really didn't seem to be there.  
  
It didn't seem to be there because it was clear so the roots of the trees were visible.  
  
Knowing he would not get back to sleep, Harry quietly gathered his cloths from the pile on the floor and slipped out of the room, changing in the bathroom before going downstairs, mind not really on where he was going. It was because of this that he ran into someone.  
  
Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry with every level of disgust imaginable, the almost-cheerful demeanor he had displayed during cookie decorating completely gone. "What are you doing, Potter?" he asked coldly.  
  
"I could ask you the same thing, sir," Harry said rather sourly, resisting the urge to brush himself off.  
  
His response was cut off by some one coming down the stairs. "Sorry, I know I'm late, don't look at me like that," Amy said, in the process of sweeping her hair back into a ponytail. For the first time Harry realized Snape was dressed in a jogging suit. All black, but a jogging suit nonetheless. Amy was in a similar one. "Oh, hey, Harry."  
  
"What are you doing?" Harry asked. Snape had asked it in a slightly haughty tone; Harry's was more incredulous.  
  
"Training for the Boston Marathon," she replied cheerfully, steering them away from the stairs and into the kitchen so as not to disturb anyone else. "Why, want to come?"  
  
"Uh . . . not really," he admitted, at the same time thinking, Snape, running?  
  
"We should get going," Snape said, looking pointedly at his watch. "Someone has a tendency to lag behind."  
  
"You know, you really should stop talking about yourself in third person," Amy returned, tucking some stray strands of hair back into her headband as Snape pulled on some thing gloves. "See you in - what, forty-five minutes?"  
  
"An hour," Snape corrected, obviously continuing the back-and-forth about who lagged behind as Amy playfully shoved him and took off out of the kitchen, leaving Snape to follow her out the door. Moving to the window Harry watched as she jogged backward, waiting for him to catch up and then the two of them took off into the sunrise and he couldn't see anymore.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry had all intention of bringing up his dream after Amy was back and showered, but by then the rest of the house was waking up and people were drifting downstairs to the smell of pancakes and the clanging of pots and pans. Although nothing really drove the dream all the way from Harry's mind, there was enough going on to make it seem less important.  
  
As they were finishing up - and as Professor Lupin was wiping whipped cream from the table where he and Amy had been dueling with the canisters - a large package, supported by three owls, bumped into the kitchen window. "It's here!" Ginny squealed, leaping to undo the latch and let the flying monstrosity inside.  
  
"Don't open it now, love," Mrs. Weasley said as Amy took it, giving Lupin a glance.  
  
"What is it?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged.  
  
Hermione sighed. "Her wedding dress, you nitwit. What else?"  
  
Before any comments could be made on her people skills, Lupin stopped Amy from leaving. "Tomorrow."  
  
She laughed, catching a corner of the brown-paper-wrapped cloth as it threatened to slip from her grasp. "Remus Javed Lupin!"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because."  
  
"Because why?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Because you can't just throw a wedding together."  
  
"What's there to throw?" There was a challenge to his eyes. "You've your dress, I'll pop on over to Gladrags and get some dress robes, and we're all set."  
  
Amy fixed him with a Look.  
  
Lupin shrugged. "Dumbledore's free."  
  
With a glance into the middle of the room, she said quietly, "And what about . . . ?"  
  
"Just confess it, Remus," Snape said, voice not as cold as Harry would have imagined it.  
  
Lupin looked chagrinned. "Umm, I kind of told them that it was going to be tomorrow, anyway. I mean, even if your dress wasn't here," he hastily added.  
  
Amy blinked. "You told them our wedding was December 21."  
  
"Yes . . ."  
  
"Just for the record, that's what we were told, too," Charlie added, grinning.  
  
Amy shook her head. "You have an overdeveloped sense of confidence, did you know?"  
  
Lupin smiled, giving her a kiss. "No. And I don't think I do."  
  
Well, that was just one more reason to put off telling her about the dream, Harry thought as Hermione and Ginny followed Amy upstairs.  
  
Snape turned to Lupin. "Shall we get our robes, then?"  
  
Amy's head popped into view. "You" - she pointed to Snape - "black. You" - to Lupin - "ummm . . . not black. Something . . . I don't know. Make sure the saleswitch says it looks good."  
  
Throwing a salute, the man in question Disapparated with a small pop as his bride-to-be again went upstairs.  
  
Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Well, I suppose you boys should make sure your dress robes still fit," she said cheerily. "You'll want to look your best for the pictures."  
  
"Sure we will," Harry muttered to Ron as they went upstairs. "Who's going to be looking at us, anyway?"  
  
Ron's ears turned pink, though he made no reply. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Harry probably wasn't supposed to overhear the conversation, but Charlie and Amy were in the living room when he went down to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The moon shone through the windows, decreasing in size and thus allowing Lupin to breathe easier. Harry, however, tried to stop breathing at all when he realized he would interrupt what they were saying if they discovered he was there.  
  
"She would want you to do this," Charlie was saying, though he sounded slightly choked up as he said it.  
  
"I know." Amy took a deep breath. "But we'd discussed it, we'd planned it. She was going to be my maid of honor. When I saw her dress . . ."  
  
The squeak of the sofa made Harry think Charlie had shifted to comfort her. "Listen, Amy: Tonks would have more of a fit if she came back and heard you'd waited even longer than if she got back and you were already Mrs. Lupin. Please, let yourself believe that. I know it's true."  
  
There was the sound of a nose being blown. "I know," Amy said. "I'm just . . . I'm just worried about her." This came out in a rush as though she could not bear thinking about it.  
  
"So'm I," Charlie admitted. "I've asked for a leave, to go and look for her."  
  
"Is there someone else to watch over the dragon?"  
  
There was a short pause in which Harry supposed Charlie nodded. "Will's taking over for me when term starts. I'm going - I don't really know, but I can't sit here and just do nothing!"  
  
"Charlie." Her voice was soft. "Be careful. And bring both of you safely home."  
  
The floorboards creaked as the pair stood and the kitchen door was no longer outlined with a rectangle of light, though Harry still waited a while before getting his drink and going back to bed.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry's head was spinning as he took another drink from his cup of punch. The Weasleys' living room had been transformed into a chapel and was now filled with buffet tables and a dance floor where Professor Lupin was sharing a slow waltz with his new wife. It had all happened so quickly: first Amy was appearing radiant at the end of the "aisle" and then Dumbledore was pronouncing them man and wife.  
  
Taking a look around the room, Harry noted that Ron was sitting in a corner, arms and legs crossed, looking sullen. Hermione was across the room, carefully avoiding the gaze of anyone but Ginny, with whom she was talking.  
  
Earlier that day the doorbell had rung. Amy, in an old sweat suit, no makeup, and her hair in curlers, had flown down the steps to answer it and squealed with joy. "You came!"  
  
"I vood not miss the vedding of my favorite cousin," a gruff voice said, a voice that was all-too-familiar, and Viktor Krum returned the gesture.  
  
Krum was there to give Amy away, he had later told Harry, after Hermione had turned pink and found an excuse to leave and Ron had become unusually quiet. Actually, Krum said to an interested Harry, he had only known about Amy since starting at Durmstrang, as this was a true blood relationship and the Krums and Blacks had no shared blood.  
  
Harry was on the verge of asking if Amy were really a Krum, then, when Dumbledore arrived and everyone flew into little whirlwinds of hair care products and dress robes.  
  
The dance ended and Snape stepped up to dance with Amy while Mrs. Weasley failed at dragging her husband out and accepted Lupin's hand. When Krum tapped Hermione on the shoulder, she blushed before accepting his hand, leaving Ginny standing al alone. Harry went to join her.  
  
She smiled, looking beautiful in green robes that brought out her eyes. "That was a lovely ceremony, wasn't it?"  
  
Feeling it impolite to shrug and only semi-agree, he nodded. "Very. Erm - Ginny?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Would you - d'you want to dance?" Suddenly his collar felt rather tight, but he ignored this, not looking her in the eye but over her shoulder and to her right.  
  
Whatever her answer was going to be was suddenly cut off when one of the windows blew open with a bang, letting in gusts of air and flurries of snow. Someone leapt to close it while the others grabbed their wands to relight the candles or stamped on the carpet where some had fallen to the floor. Amy, however, was not moving; she had a tight grip on Snape's shoulder and his face was pale.  
  
"Not tonight," she pleaded. "They can't -"  
  
His finger went to her lips. "Some of them are already here."  
  
Harry cast a wild glance around the room. The music was still playing; Krum and Hermione had laughed it off and started dancing again, while others picked up their conversations where they had left off. Dumbledore was listening intently to Charlie, but his blue eyes swiveled up to the ceiling in a way that made Harry feel both better and worse.  
  
"He's here?" Amy whispered it, but Harry was reading her lips.  
  
"No. He's gone; he was only here long enough to summon us." Snape looked almost as shaken as she was. "You know what they're after."  
  
Her head shook. "It's not here. I know it's not; he left it at school, he told me!"  
  
"But they don't know that." Snape's eyes met Harry's and he gave a little toss of his head, a "come here" sort of gesture. "Dance with Amy; I'll be right back."  
  
Before Harry could protest, the last swirl of the black robe had disappeared around the corner.  
  
Amy hesitated a moment, taking Harry's hand and seeming as though she might start to dance, then changing her mind and beckoning Ginny over. "You two dance. Don't leave this room," she warned, giving Ginny a little shove toward Harry and going to Mr. Weasley, coaxing him to take his wife back from Lupin.  
  
"What's going on?" Ginny asked, looking over Harry's shoulder as the two of them slowly rotated on the spot, not nearly as close as he might have liked, but the situation was a bit too tense.  
  
"I don't know," Harry said back. But I think it involves me. Me, and the Secret Finder at the bottom of my trunk at school.  
  
Amy had her head on her new husband's shoulder and was whispering something in his ear. This, however, was brought to an end as the back door banged open and Snape's voice could be heard. "I told you, it's not here."  
  
"We'll see about that." The mask of a Death Eater appeared before the rest of him, Snape on his heels. In a flash Amy had positioned herself between them and Harry.  
  
"Severus." Her voice held a warning tone.  
  
"You can modify their memories," the Death Eater snapped. Harry looked around wildly for Dumbledore, but the old man was not to bee seen. I don't need a cloak to become invisible. The memory was comforting. "Where is it?"  
  
"It's not here, Aramis." Her voice was hard. "I would have told you if it were. You could have the glory in presenting it to the Dark Lord but I would never hold you back."  
  
"And yet even now you keep up your charade." Aramis took a few slow, measured steps into the room. "Protecting the boy . . ."  
  
"There are some things that cannot be allowed to happen even when the veil is lifted," she said evenly, lifting her chin in defiance. "And, may I remind you, Severus outranks you."  
  
"And you do not," was the quick retort.  
  
"Narcissa has the status of her husband," Snape said silkily, slipping by the Death Eater and going to Amy, putting a protective arm around her waist.  
  
Aramis froze, as did everyone else in the room, not having caught the subtlety in which the Death Eater's conclusion was formed by hint only. "You -"  
  
"Followed his orders? Would you have thought otherwise?" Snape's smile was horribly tinged. "Please, tell him. And that we don't have it."  
  
"He - he didn't expect you to," Aramis said uncertainly, the mask swiveling in order to let him catch a glimpse of Harry. "Just - well. I'll - I'll tell the others, then. You - you can handle -?" He gestured vaguely around the room.  
  
Amy nodded once.  
  
He left.  
  
"Fabulously done." Dumbledore's voice caused Harry to jump as he turned and looked exactly where his eyes had gone before, this time to see the old man standing there, eyes twinkling.  
  
"Amy." Lupin stepped up to take her hand and she gave Snape a smile, her head on Lupin's shoulder.  
  
"I suppose there's the change of a few unexpected guests at every wedding," she said lightly.  
  
Snape nodded once. "I'll make sure they've gone."  
  
The music had never stopped. At Dumbledore's urging, the conversations rose again. Turning back to Ginny, Harry was rewarded with, "I'll take that dance now, if you're still willing."  
  
Smiling, he held out his hand, barely even noticing the way Ron's looked changed from a surly frown to utter shock when he saw them before he took it upon himself to go to bed early.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry was still in a bit of a shock as he climbed the stars to go to bed, Fred and George still catcalling and slapping him on the back. Blushing furiously, Ginny slipped into her room, followed by Hermione, who gave him a wink before following.  
  
"Ronnikins!" George called as they got to Ron's room. "Where've you been?"  
  
"You missed the best part!" Fred added, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders.  
  
"It was fantastic!"  
  
"Amazing!"  
  
"Wonderful"  
  
"We're talking about our Magical Mistletoe, of course," Fred clarified. "Just so you don't get a big head."  
  
Harry was too far gone to care. One the Mistletoe had been enchanted, it had decided to hover over his head at random intervals - and Ginny had laughed and first given him a peck on the cheek, then on the lips, and that last time . . . not all kisses were a bad sort of wet, he concluded, trying to hide his grin behind his hand.  
  
"And I'm sure Hermione and Vicky loved you for your little trick." Ron's voice came from a pile of blankets, slightly muffled as it appeared his head was mashed between a pillow and the wall.  
  
"Who's talking about them?"  
  
"Yeah, mate; you're a bit behind on the times!"  
  
Ron sat up, still cocooned in layers of cloth, hair sticking out in every direction and eyes blazing. "I don't care if Ginny just Frenched Harry, lust leave me alone!" He then flopped over again, burrowing deeper into the covers and actually giving way to a moment of stunned silence.  
  
Fred shrugged, patting Harry's cheek. "Ah, well. Just because he got it right doesn't make him a happy boy . . ." He sighed dramatically, looking to his younger brother for a reaction.  
  
Ron didn't move. Silently the other three got ready for bed and turned out the light, though Harry lay there a long time, mind churning with all that had happened that evening before deciding to focus on the positive. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, thinking of Ginny's smile.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The next day might have been a bit awkward had not Harry woken up screaming when it was still dark outside. Next to him Ron awoke, got tangled in his blankets, and was in great danger of falling to the floor, while at their feet the twins grumbled and rolled over, pulling their pillows over their ears.  
  
The door burst open. Snape in his gray nightshirt, wand out, shoved Ron back onto his bed. "What is it, Potter?" he demanded.  
  
Harry was in no condition to answer, much less even wonder if it had been the professor's shift in guarding his door, the way he had gotten there so quickly.  
  
"Weasley, go get Amy," Snape barked.  
  
First looking to see if perhaps the twins were awake, Ron blinked. "Me? Get Amy?" He was obviously thinking, Now? It's still her wedding night . . .  
  
"It's all right, Sev; I'm here." Amy squeezed past him, still knotting the belt of her dressing gown, reaching into her pocket and drawing out a bottle and a spoon, measuring out a dose of brilliant teal syrup and forcing Harry to take it.  
  
His head became suddenly clear, though his chest was still heaving. "They want - they want -" Images of the forest assaulted his mind and he buried his head in his hands. "Make them go away! Make them go away!"  
  
"Make who go away, Harry?" Amy's voice was calm as she managed to kneel in the small space between his bed and Ron's, taking Harry gently by the wrists and forcing his hands away from his face. "Who should go away?"  
  
"Them." His voice was still muffled, this time by his pillow.  
  
"Who?" she asked gently.  
  
His only response was to point to the window.  
  
Amy sucked in a quick breath but Snape was already gone, Disapparating without a sound. "And what did they want, Harry?" she probed gently.  
  
Charlie was suddenly in the doorway. "What is it?"  
  
"Occlumency." Her tone stayed light and soothing, though she looked as though she would dearly love to strange someone.  
  
"When he was asleep?" He looked shocked. "But that's -"  
  
"Dangerous." Amy reached out to put a hand on Harry's forehead, frowning more deeply when she found it cold and clammy. "Possibly permanently damaging." Her face twisted. "And what the hell did they think they were going to gain by it, anyway? What if - what if they - oh, God, Charlie." Reaching up, she quickly brushed angry tears from her face, taking a deep breath and composing herself. "Would you kindly owl Dumbledore and tell him that Remus, Severus, Harry and I will be there before dawn?"  
  
Charlie nodded once, pausing only to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving the room.  
  
Snape and Professor Lupin Apparated back into the hallway. "We searched the grounds," Lupin said, voice hoarser than usual.  
  
"And?" But Amy seemed to already know the answer.  
  
"Nothing." He swallowed. "I'll go pack our things. You and Severus get Harry there. And Amy -" He knelt quickly, lifting up her chin. "Be careful." A quick kiss and he was out of the room again.  
  
Snape squeezed her shoulder. "I'll get the brooms. Do you know where his cloak is?"  
  
"In - in his trunk. Here." Amy reached across the foot of the bed, over Harry's still feet, rooting through books and robes to find the right one.  
  
"Thanks." Snape quickly kissed her cheek. A moment later they heard him downstairs.  
  
Ron cleared his throat. "Is he . . . going to be all right?"  
  
Amy didn't look at him, grabbing a sweater and starting to pull it over Harry's head. "To be honest with you, Ron . . . I don't know." She finished dressing Harry in silence, with him looking at her one or twice without any hint of recognition on his face. When Snape came back upstairs she moved aside, allowing him to pick Harry up and the three of them went downstairs.  
  
The twins sat up, each having awoken halfway through the events. The three Weasleys shared a look.  
  
"Hermione," Ron said shakily.  
  
"It's too early," Fred said, craning his neck to see out the door and the patches of light thrown on the walls from candles downstairs.  
  
"But -"  
  
"Wait until they're gone," George said, holding up a hand.  
  
Nodding, Ron shut the door and they lay back down, eyes open and ears straining for any more noises in the wintry night.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Hermione looked shell-shocked. "You heard her wrong," she said immediately, shaking her head.  
  
"Shh!" Ron shushed her, looking up the stairs. Not only did his parents not know they were up, but they had managed to get Hermione out of the room without waking Ginny. Fred had decided that himself; he though she didn't need to know until they had as much information as possible.  
  
"What do you mean, we heard wrong?" Fred demanded.  
  
"We were there, we know what we heard," George added, looking slightly put- out.  
  
She took a steadying breath. "All right, all right. You were there, you heard it . . ." Still, she hesitated. "Tell me what Amy said again."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "She said it was Occlumency."  
  
"And she gave him . . ."  
  
"Some blue stuff. The sure, I suppose." Ron shrugged.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "There's no real cure for that, for when someone puts you under that spell when you're asleep and completely unguarded."  
  
Fred and George exchanged a glance. "What was that blue stuff for, then?"  
  
"Well . . ."  
  
"Hermione," Ron said warningly.  
  
"All right! Just . . . well . . ." She sighed. "I think it's like a sedative or something, something to calm down his brain. See, the thing is, when Legilimens is performed like that, whoever puts you under the curse has full access to all your memories and every corner of your brain. It's so easy to figuratively cross wires or even delete sections completely, especially if you don't know what you're doing."  
  
"Hay, hey - wait a second." Ron held up a hand. "Figuratively cross wires? Delete sections completely?"  
  
Hermione was looking at her hands. "In the few cases where this has happened, there have been varying results. In one instance, the man was fine."  
  
"One?" Ron looked distinctly ill. Fred shushed him.  
  
"There were also some cases of sever brain damage," Hermione continued, speaking quickly in order to get this over and done with. "And some where whole sections of that person's life were no longer in his memory. Sometimes . . . well, a couple even ended up like Lockhart, memory completely gone."  
  
George took a deep breath. "The blue potion?" he prompted almost hollowly.  
  
"To slow down the action in his brain in case that would cause a chain reaction," she responded promptly. "It's kind of like a sedative that plunges the patient into a state of lethargy where no action takes place: no neurons firing and that kind of thing." She shrugged. "It's about the only thing she could do right now."  
  
"And how long will it take Harry to recover?" Fred asked, squeezing his younger brother's shoulder.  
  
Hermione licked her lips. "A few weeks, minimum."  
  
"And maximum?"  
  
She took a deep breath. "The longest time after which any sort of recovery was eminent was three and a half months."  
  
Ron was stunned to his very core, quickly counting off in his head. "Then - then he might not be . . . be . . ." - he could not say what Harry would be, exactly, but they understood - "until April."  
  
Hermione was unable to do anything but nod.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dumbledore stood back, knowing that, while this was not exactly in Amy's league, it was definitely out of his. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked kindly as she brushed Harry's hair out of his eyes, removed his glasses, and lay them on the bedside table.  
  
"The Order needs to know," she said hollowly, gratefully accepting the chair he pushed toward her.  
  
"It's not your fault," he said gently.  
  
"Isn't it?" Her eyes flashed dimly, slightly filled with tears. "I was the one who got us away fro Christmas. I was the one who insisted on going to the Burrow and not staying here. I was the one whose turn it was to stand guard last night."  
  
"All things perfectly excusable considering the circumstances," the headmaster assured her, sliding a comforting arm around her shoulders.  
  
"And you would still be blaming yourself, if you'd stood guard," Snape said rather sharply, striding into the room and throwing his cloak across an empty bed.  
  
"But then at least it wouldn't have been you," she argued.  
  
"Listen to me." Dumbledore stood aside to let Snape through. The Potions master took Amy by the shoulders and made her both stand up and look him in the eye. "Our battles are just beginning. You can't admit defeat just when we're starting to fight."  
  
The tears she had been holding back suddenly coursed down her cheeks. Amy threw her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder. "But Sev, it seems so bloody impossible," she chocked out.  
  
"It's not," he said soothingly, gently lifting her chin and making her look at him again. "Especially not for the Healer who was just recently honored for her breakthrough work with Vampires."  
  
She took a shuddery breath. "You know that's different."  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Oh, less personal, is it?" A slight smile appeared on his face, as he had elicited a watery laugh. "There you go. You know as well as I: you can't make any mistakes with this. All the damage has already been done. Anything you do will either help, or have no effect; you can't make this worse."  
  
"You only say that because that's the reasoning I gave to you all those years I was working on my last project," she said wryly, wiping off her cheeks.  
  
He shrugged. "It sounded just fine coming from you."  
  
There was a long enough silence that Dumbledore did not feel he would be interrupting. "Do you want me to fetch anything from Hogsmeade for you?"  
  
Mandy took a deep breath, smoothing her hair and looking around the room. "Chocolate frogs, for one. And some supplies . . ." Quickly she rattled off what was needed to make a chock-full cupboard.  
  
Snape smiled wryly. "Headmaster, I think I'd better come with you."  
  
"I just hope you know everything she needs," he said amiably. Had this been under different circumstances, the familiar twinkle would have winked in his eye.  
  
He nodded. "Remus should be here within the hour. We'll be back soon."  
  
Amy nodded back. They were almost to the door when she whirled around. "Wait!"  
  
Snape turned. "Yes?"  
  
She spread her hands. "We need a Christmas tree."  
  
Something so normal for the season seemed completely absurd and a bemused expression found its way onto his face. "Of course. Complete with decorations." Blowing her a kiss, he was gone, the headmaster close behind.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Amy nodded, looking past the ingredients she was measuring to where Snape and Professor Lupin were decorating the tree. "Okay, let's try this again: I missed you."  
  
Lupin rolled his eyes. "Well, if you didn't make this all so hard . . . fine: My dear, it's not been so very long."  
  
She smiled crookedly. "Yes, you probably think it's just a bit of tom foolery."  
  
"Well, that one's obvious," he allowed. "But what am I supposed to think, that You-Know-Who just slithered up your chimney in the guise of a snake?"  
  
"Let's just work on this now, okay?" She set the vial down, frowning slightly at it as she ran through the directions. "I missed you."  
  
"Blah blah blah very long."  
  
Amy laughed. "Blah blah absence makes the heart grow fonder blahdy blah to you, too."  
  
He responded with something absolutely not worth repeating.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Care to express yourself a bit more clearly, dear? I don't think I quite know how you feel about him."  
  
In response Lupin picked up a half-finished popcorn string and viciously stabbed another kernel through the middle. "Clear?"  
  
Amy smiled. "I missed you."  
  
"Blah blah blah five minutes?"  
  
Snape rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Married couples . . ."  
  
Amy stuck her tongue out at him. "Well, I suppose it was something about being bowled over by how handsome you look," she said to her husband.  
  
"Thanks." Lupin grinned, straightening his robe.  
  
"Remus."  
  
"Amy." He grinned. "And what's the logic behind that one?"  
  
"Bowled over? Bowler hat?"  
  
"Lime green?" Snape supplied when Lupin still looked blank.  
  
The werewolf crossed his arms. "So you've been snogging Voldemort in the chimney and someone from the Ministry . . . where, in the closet?"  
  
"Not enough room there," Amy said airily, arranging her things on a tray. "Under my desk."  
  
Lupin closed his eyes. "My dear, it's not been so very long."  
  
She smiled, letting him change the subject as she carried the tray to Harry's bedside table. "But when I'm not with you, it's like having lightening without thunder."  
  
His mouth twitched. "We could have used that one last night, huh?" he asked, looking at Harry's scar.  
  
Her mouth moved into a tight lipped smile. "Here's a new one: it's always so dark and dreary when you're gone."  
  
Lupin frowned, spearing some more popcorn. "Dark and dreary?"  
  
Snape leaned around the tree, ice sickles still in hand. "You won't ever need that one."  
  
"Won't I?" She raised an eyebrow. "And why, pray tell, is that?"  
  
He winked. "Because he'll never catch us snogging."  
  
Amy laughed. "Remus, be a dear and toss me some of that popcorn, will you?"  
  
Wondering exactly why he was being asked, her husband did just that.  
  
Snape barely had time to duck around the other side of the three when she flung it at him, laughter filling the small room and making it sound as rooms should on Christmas Eve.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Professor Lupin came into Amy's office, yawning slightly as he found her at her desk and went to massage her shoulders. "Santa's not going to come if you don't go to sleep," he said, only half-joking.  
  
"Mmm." She rubbed a hand across her eyes, shoving aside her book and looking dejectedly at the pile through which she had already looked. "You'd think this had never happened before."  
  
"What, the Occlumency thing?"  
  
"Exactly. I mean, there's not even an official name for it." Amy sighed, leaning back into him and covering his hand with her own. "It's like I'm running blind."  
  
"That's not so different from when you were looking for that vampire cure," he said consolingly, leaning down to put his arms around her and nuzzle her neck.  
  
She rested her head against his. "Yes, but there wasn't so much resting on that. I was allowed to keep the reasons personal, but here . . ."  
  
"Here they aren't allowed to know the personal reasons?"  
  
"Here it has to be public," she corrected. "I hate that. As if the pressure wasn't on already . . ."  
  
Professor Lupin kissed her check and straightened up, drawing her chair back from the desk. "Do you know what you need?" he asked, taking her hands.  
  
"A hug?" she prompted.  
  
He smiled, obliging her. "A cup of hot chocolate, some Christmas cookies, and a warm bed."  
  
"Mmm." She pulled back just enough to look at him. "And do you come with this little deal?"  
  
"I'll see what I can do." Slipping an arm around her waist, he led her up the stairs, though he could not stop her from taking one last look through the open door to where Harry was lying in the moonlight.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Ron gave Hermione and his sister a withering glance. "Guys, it's Christmas."  
  
"So?" Hermione flipped a page in an impossibly large book she had found in his basement.  
  
The look on his face turned more into wondering whether or not he should say the thought that had come into his mind. "Amy's working on it." The "What makes you think you'll find something a trained Healer won't?" went unsaid.  
  
Hermione glanced up in order to shoot a glare at him, though Ginny was being uncharacteristically silent. "So? Sometimes the obvious solutions present themselves to those who have no clue what they're doing."  
  
Deciding it was probably not a good idea to point out that Amy herself was exploring unknown territory, he plopped down on the couch. "But -"  
  
"Do you expect us to just do nothing?" Ginny exploded. "Do you want us to just sit around and twiddle our thumbs, thinking there's absolutely nothing we can do? What if you're wrong about that? What if there's something you could have done, but didn't?"  
  
"He's not going to die," Ron said, slightly taken aback by her outburst.  
  
"Not going to die?" Her eyes were glittering with tears. "Not going to die? Ron, he could lose all his memory, and it's memory that makes us who we really are. Maybe he'll be able to walk and talk and he'll still look like Harry, but he won't actually be Harry, not really."  
  
He took a deep breath and turned to Hermione for support. "But didn't Amy say it might only be some of his memory and not everything?"  
  
Her jaw tightened. "And what would you have him lose? Meeting us? Defeating Voldemort? Voldemort!" she practically shouted when he winced. "What do you want him to forget? Sirius?" Her voice was quieter.  
  
"Well . . . without the memory, it can't exactly be painful, can it?" he suggested meekly.  
  
"Without the memory, he's had no one," Ginny said flatly. "He already has no memory of his parents except their deaths. Without Sirius, who's been there for him?"  
  
"We have," Ron said, reaching out to briefly squeeze his sister's hand. "You know we have."  
  
"Then why shouldn't we be there for him now?" Hermione titled her head, not accusing him, simply asking a question.  
  
"How, by looking up a cure that isn't there? By searching for something that can't be found? Merlin's beard, Hermione; if it's not there, how are you supposed to get it?" he exploded.  
  
She looked at him coldly. "Well, maybe I won't find it. But I know I never will if I never look." Picking up the book, she snapped it shut and left, most likely to retreat to the privacy of Ginny's room.  
  
Ron and his sister sat there for ten long seconds of silence. "I'm sorry," he said at last.  
  
She managed a small smile. "So am I."  
  
* * * * *  
  
A light tapping on her door made Amy look up. "Thought I might be of service," Snape said.  
  
"If you are, I'll love you forever," she said, smiling gratefully.  
  
"Nothing like a bit of incentive," he observed, eyebrow raised.  
  
"I try. Sit." She shoved some of her papers aside and patted her desk.  
  
In a move that most people would have a hard time believing, Snape hitched up his robes and sat on her desk, putting a thin, old book where they could both see it if they turned their heads slightly. "See, in this case . . ."  
  
Her eyes skimmed the text as she leaned closer to him, resting her head slightly on his arm. "You're joking."  
  
"I only wish."  
  
"But Sev, where did you get this?" Instead of reaching for it, as if touching the pages would burn her, Amy merely pulled back to look at him.  
  
A wry smile tugged at his lips. "It was confiscated years ago from the home of a Dark family."  
  
Her mouth tightened. "I know that. But how did you get it?"  
  
He blinked. "You knew?"  
  
Amy pointed to a scrawled note in the corner. "That's Mum's handwriting. My first adopted one. I'd know it anywhere."  
  
He took a deep breath. "You don't trust it, then?"  
  
"Well . . . it's not that she wasn't a Dark witch. She was; but . . . well, I'm not sure what of hers I can trust and what I can't. I know for a fact that some of it's true, and not even bad, depending on how it's used, but this . . ." She gestured to the water stained pages. "I just don't know."  
  
"Chances are we can't even make it," he observed, paging through the rest of the recipe. "Look at all of this . . . six weeks, minimum, if he hit the right phase of the moon."  
  
She snorted softly. "I know those like the back of my hand."  
  
He nodded, leaning back on his hands and looking pensive, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "I have my classes, but that leaves . . . I could spare evenings and leave weekends for grading . . ."  
  
"I can forge your signature," she pointed out. "So it'll be no trick to mimic your biting wit."  
  
"You want to help me grade papers?"  
  
"Hmm, let me think." Amy leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Unlike Durmstrang, there aren't daily duels in the corridors and body parts to reattach. Unlike Durmstrang, people aren't generally rushed into the hospital wing because of dueling in their Dark Arts classes. And, again until Durmstrang, we don't generally have people getting hypothermia because of polar bear diving, pranks, or slipping off and iceberg. It's not like I have that much to do."  
  
"Slipping off an iceberg? That happens often?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Sev, Durmstrang doesn't generally check for street smarts."  
  
"They check for book smarts?"  
  
She was stopped from smacking him when Professor Lupin came into the room. "Am I . . . interrupting something?" he raised an eyebrow.  
  
"She's missed you," Snape said.  
  
He blinked.  
  
"Yes, she was saying how dark and dreary it was when you were gone . . ."  
  
"Please can I hit him?" Amy whined.  
  
Remus shrugged. "What was stopping you?"  
  
Snape gave a yelp of protest and quickly slid off the desk and out the door. Professor Lupin laughed, going over to kiss Amy on the forehead. "What was that about?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing," Amy said, forcing herself to supply the answer none too quickly as she stood, unobtrusively spilling a few papers over the book Snape had just brought in and collecting it between them when she straightened things up. "He had nothing better to do."  
  
"Wish I had that excuse," he muttered, halfway between sweet and sour. "Ames, I'll be upstairs."  
  
"I'll be along shortly, soon as I fix this mess," she assured him, opening a drawer and beginning to organize her papers, waiting until the door had closed before pulling the book out again and looking at it.  
  
Unknown emotions swirled in her eyes as she gently ran her fingers over the shiny red lettering on the black velvet cover. For all the inside was old and worn, the outside might as well have been made only yesterday. A slight shudder passed through her.  
  
Chances are we can't even make it. Snape's words, meant to be reassuring, were also a sort of challenge, one to which she already felt herself rising. They could do it; she knew they could. If one person could do it, why not her and Sev, both of them modestly brilliant?  
  
As if it might put off making a decision, Amy quickly shoved the book under a couple of inkpots in the bottom drawer and locked it, glancing out into the hospital wing one last time before heading upstairs.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Snape frowned. "Every time I open this book you cringe like you think something's going to jump out of it."  
  
Amy shrugged, avoiding his glance. "It's nothing. Come on, we should try to get this part done before everyone comes back tomorrow."  
  
He was not pacified. "Amy. Something's wrong and you won't tell me what it is."  
  
"Because it's nothing. Just stress." She looked up from the roots she was carefully dicing and flashed him a smile. "You'd think I would've learned to handle it by now."  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "You have learned to handle it by now."  
  
Another non-committal shrug lifted her shoulders.  
  
"Ames." He reached across the table to still her hands. "Look at me?"  
  
Slowly she raised her eyes.  
  
"Tell me what's wrong."  
  
For a moment she didn't move. Finally she looked away, running a hand through her hair and sitting back in her chair. "You don't know who wrote that book."  
  
"No . . ."  
  
"And old family friend. Very old friend." A smile that might have been nostalgic was tainted by a half grimace. "He's the reason I was given no resistance in wanting to be a Healer."  
  
"An old Black family friend wrote this. I'm assuming she was a Healer, then?" Snape lifted the book, pages rustling slightly.  
  
"He," Amy corrected. "And he might have been, in another life, but something happened and . . . he had a different career."  
  
She paused, though he knew better than to urge her on while she was collecting her thoughts.  
  
"He used to visit," she continued. "Often. Only when I was very young, he stopped soon after I got out of school and started at St. Mungo's. Of course, he favored Bella." Amy cocked her head, eyes unfocused as if seeing it all happen again. "He loved her, loved her dearly, or at least adored her enough to make it seem like that. Most don't think him capable of love. I'm not sure.  
  
"From the beginning he had a problem with Rodolphus. You know he lost her. Later -" she laughed without feeling - "Lucius said it was the family curse: whenever anyone wanted a daughter, someone else got there first."  
  
"I don't understand where you're going with this," Snape said quietly when she had been silent a moment.  
  
Amy winced. "I never told you. He knows my name, he's known me since I was a little girl. That's why he trusts you, Sev; because I do."  
  
"Who?"  
  
She shook her head. "Bella was his favorite. Still is, actually, but he can't get rid of Rodolphus; the irony is he actually needs him." When he was still not getting it, she continued, "Sev, he trained Bella himself!"  
  
Snape shook his head, looking pensive. "Sorry, Ames; you've the brains, remember? I'm just the looks."  
  
She would not be deterred. "Why did you think Dumbledore made you teach me Occlumency?"  
  
"So no one could read your mind against your will."  
  
"No, so a specific someone could stop reading my mind against my will. Tom Riddle, Sev; I've known him practically since I was born. Tom Riddle wrote that book." She gestured to it savagely.  
  
"Riddle?" Snape had frozen. "You've - he - but he's -"  
  
"An old Black family friend," she said, irritated.  
  
Snape swallowed. "He wanted to be a Healer?"  
  
She shrugged. "In a way. Mudbloods and Mugglelovers would have been allowed to die under his care. He wanted a St. Mungo's that weeded out the weak and inept. That was his dream, his launching point: to rid our world of them through instances that could be document as incurable cases or harsh allergic reactions or any number of things."  
  
It finally seemed to hit him. "You became a Healer because of Voldemort."  
  
A wry smile crept horribly onto her face. "We don't talk much, but he has wondered why you've seemed so clueless."  
  
He shook his head. "That's a hell of a way to choose a career."  
  
Amy raised an eyebrow. "Better than having no career and being Regulus' housewife, don't you think?"  
  
There was no argument for that, so he simply turned back to the book and let her get on with chopping her roots. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Dumbledore looked up, using a long index finger to push his half-moon glasses up on his crooked nose.  "Ah, yes; Amy."

"I think I know why you wanted to see me," she said, rather stiffly.

He put the tips of his fingers together, elbows on his desk.  "Severus should know."

She had to look away, though she still felt the blue eyes probing her.  "I told him the main points, all right?"

"But not the most important."

"Yes, because of course I want to go broadcasting that!"  Frustrated, she crossed her arms and started pacing slowly, scuffing her shoes on the carpet.  "Sev already worries too much about me; please, understand that."

"Yes, Severus worries.  And so does someone else, someone who doesn't know even the smallest bit of that part of your past."

Amy snorted.  "What, you want me to walk up to him and say, 'Hi, Remus.  Look, there's something I should tell you: Voldemort's my godfather'?  Yes, that's such a happy thought, sprinkle him with fairy dust and he'll fly straight to Never-Never Land!"

The headmaster ignored the Muggle children's book reference.  "I was going to suggest something with more tact, but that works."

She blinked.  "No.  Oh, no.  Tell me he's not upstairs with the door wide open listening to every word I say."

The clearing of a throat made her look up to the landing.  "The door was only cracked partly."

Muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a harsh four-letter word, Amy buried her head in her hands as she leaned heavily against the wall.

Dumbledore spread his hands.  "Sometimes we must be forced to speak."

"Amy?"  Professor Lupin came down the stairs onto the mail floor of the headmaster's office, gently taking her shoulders.  "Ames, darling."

A weak laugh came through her fingers.  "And you thought my family couldn't get any worse."

* * * * *

Amy shrugged.  "Why did you think I protested so strongly against Harry ever finding out from anyone who his godfather was when everyone else still thought it had been Sirius who killed his parents?  At the time I only knew what it felt like to have him – but now –"

"You don't know that, Ames," Remus said softly, gathering her closer to him and rocking her gently.  "You don't that."

She pulled back.  "I lied to you, Remus."

He took a slow breath.  "About what?"

"My parents.  My adoptive ones; he didn't know the real ones.  They weren't killed experimenting.  _He killed them."_

"My god."

"And I've known since it happened."  The look on her face was one of inner pain trying to be outshone by a wry smile.  "I've known since that day and this is the first time I've ever said it.  My godfather –_Voldemort_ – killed my parents, the only ones I had ever known.  And that's the position everyone thought Harry was in."

Remus blinked, trying to absorb this.  "This is why you had to learn to get rid of Secret Finders."

She nodded once.  "He taught me how."

He looked like he was having a hard time breathing.  "How did you escape?"

"Escape?"

Reaching for her arm, he pulled back her sleeve.  "No Mark."

"I'm his goddaughter; that's mark enough, don't you think?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat; they had almost forgotten he was there.  "Then as a child he gave you gifts."  It was not a question.

"As a child he treated me like a daughter, until he went into hiding."  The tendons in her neck were standing out as she spoke through a clenched jaw.  "Yes, he gave me gifts."

"Did he tell you about the Chamber of Secrets?"  Dumbledore's voice was light.

She took a deep breath.  "I can speak Parseltongue, Professor.  I know the Chamber exists somewhere inside these walls, and I know that he is the descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself.  But I could no more have found the Chamber than Gilderoy Lockhart himself."

Professor Lupin turned.  "You think she'd just allow something like that to happen?"

Dumbledore was silent a moment.  "You have kept secrets even from me, Mrs. Lupin.  What others are you keeping?"

For a moment Amy held his gaze.  "You're the one who asked Severus to teach me Occlumency, Professor."

"And have you ever used it against me?"  His voice was soft.

She paused.  "Twice."

The blue eyes did not blink.  "Twice?"

"Yes.  Both times to keep you from knowing about the gifts."  Her jaw started trembling.  "Dammit, Dumbledore!  Don't you think I blame myself?  If I had found him then, sought him out, he would have trusted me enough to tell me how to get in, how to find it.  If I had been thinking, if I hadn't been a coward – don't you think I've tortured myself with that enough in my life?  But he said nothing to me about the Sorcerer's Stone, or coming back . . . I didn't find out until Sev told me; how do you think that made me feel?

She gave him no chance to answer.  "Scared.  Scared out of my wits that somehow, this time, I'd messed up.  Somehow he knew, and all those chances I missed would be nothing compared to all the ones I'd miss in the future after he was through with me.  Yes, Voldemort's my godfather.  Yes, I'm a Parselmouth.  And if you were anyone else, anyone at all, I wouldn't even bother trying to justify myself to you.  If you don't believe me, then nothing I do can convince you."  She shrugged.  "I'm not tied to this job, Albus; just to Harry.  A single word from you can send me packing."

Dumbledore rose.  "I'm going to ask something of you I've not asked from anyone before.  You are allowed to refuse."

Amy took a deep breath.  "I know."

Her husband looked back and forth between the two.  "What's going on?  Amy?"

"I am asking to probe her mind fully, and without resistance.  Certain memories, of course, have no need to be examined and will thus be left alone.  Others . . . a quick glance will assure me.  She just cannot resist."  Dumbledore kept his eyes on Amy.

She nodded once.  "I won't."

The headmaster was suddenly all business.  "Amy, sit here," he said, motioning to a chair across from his own.  "Remus, it's best if you didn't stay."

"But –"

"Remus."  Amy's voice made him stop.  "You know what it's like, having to wake from a nightmare."

"Yes . . ."

"This time . . . here, you can't wake me."  She shrugged slightly.  "I don't want you to see that."

He hesitated.  "You're sure it's safe."

"As long as she does not resist, it's nothing more than a Chocolate Frog can handle," the elderly man assured him.

Nodding once, Remus turned and left the room, shutting the door quickly behind him.

Dumbledore took a seat.  "Now; let's begin."

* * * * *

Amy didn't look up when Snape walked in a set a stack of essays on her desk. "Thanks."

He paused.  "Was that a you-can-go-now thanks, or a do-you-have-a-minute thanks?"

She sighed, setting down the stack of papers she had been going through and looking up.  "You know, Severus.  Remus already told you."

The potions master winced slightly.  "He, ah, told you he told me?"

"No, and I wasn't entirely sure he had, but you just did."  The papers rose again.

"Amy."  He leaned across the desk to pull them down so he could see her face.  "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It's not something people generally like to hear."  She lifted his fingers from the papers and brought them up again.

"No, it's not.  But that's no excuse."  When she avoided his grab for them again he pounded a fist on the desk.  "Dammit, Amy!  How can I help you if you won't let me?"

"Maybe I don't need help," she snapped back.  "Maybe I'd somehow managed to put this all behind me until you all managed to drag it up again and shove it in my face."

"For some reason I doubt it."

The tears were on her cheeks before he could get around the desk and take her in his arms.  "Shh, Amy . . . I'm sorry . . . this is all my fault . . ."

"You – you couldn't've known," she said, voice muffled by his shoulder.  "I had – had to make sure of that."

Gently he took her shoulders and pushed her back slightly, bringing up a hand to wipe off her cheeks.  "I know.  He probably told you not to tell me."

"Well, he said – not if I could help it."  Suddenly looking extremely tired, she leaned forward and rested her head on his chest.  "I was hoping he'd wake up before today."

Snape took a deep breath, allowing the change of subject.  "I'm sure Miss Granger will leap at the chance to tutor him."

"Tutor him?"  Amy pulled back and kept going, flopping into her chair.  "How much can Harry afford to miss?"

"I'm sure his aunt and uncle wouldn't mind a summer term," Snape said dryly, moving the essays so he could sit on her desk.  "Two weeks with them, then back here . . . between you and Remus, you'd be able to cover most of it."

Her eyebrow rose.  "Then I take it you're not volunteering."

"Eh . . ."

She hit him playfully on the knee.

"Ow!  Adele Yvonne –"

"You deserved it!" she said, shouting over the rest of her name.  "You know you did!"

Remus poked his head into the room.  "Excuse me, but quiet hours started fifteen minutes ago.  I'll have to report you to your head of house."

Amy subtly reached for her wand.  "For one thing, Remus, Sev [i]is[/i] Head of House.  And for another, I didn't even go here."

He barely had time to duck as a quill pen transfigured itself into a pillow and launched itself at him.

"Why, you –" The pillow became a bouncy ball and started ricocheting around the room.

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" Snape bellowed, covering his head with his arms as Amy dove under her desk.

"Ten points?"  Remus smiled, ignoring the ball as it whizzed right past his left ear.  "That's nothing, we used to rack up a lot more than [i]that[/i] in one go."

"Tell him he can have the couch in their Common Room if that thing doesn't stop right now!"  Amy's voice echoed slightly.

"Amy says –"

"I heard her!"  Through a pout the ball dropped suddenly, turning back into a quill pen along the way.

Snape reached down to help Amy up.  "Where were you when the Marauders were running rampant?"

"Getting my nose broken and freezing my toes off," she answered promptly.  "Charming place, Durmstrang . . ."

"Which explains why you stayed there for work, as well." Snape nodded as though it all made perfect sense.

Amy blinked.  "You main you don't know why?"

Snape and Lupin shared a look.  "I'm afraid our combined brain power isn't enough," the latter quipped.

"Hmm."  She looked thoughtful.  "All right, to start with: [i]Hogwarts, a History[/i]."  She held her hands about eight inches apart.  "[i]The Distinguished History of Durmstrang Academy.[/i]"  Switching to her fingers, she held them perhaps an inch and a half apart.  "Any questions?"

Remus raised his hand.  "Do you need a magnifying glass to read that one?"

Amy rolled her eyes.  "The history of Durmstrang only covers about the last fifty years."  When they still looked blank, she laughed.  "Oh, come on, you two!  Don't tell me you need Hermione for this."

Snape frowned.  "Should we tell her?"

"She told us not to."

"Ah."  A pause.  "Then does she want us to lie?"

"Hmmm . . . hard to tell . . ."

Amy looked as though she were having a hard time not reaching for her wand and transfiguring something else into something more deadly than a pillow.  "My godfather founded Durmstrang.  It's really hard to get in, a real elite school, but he put my name down the moment he was declared godfather."

Remus had to try a couple times to get words to come out.  "Then why – how – why are you here now?"

She crossed her arms, trying to tone down her smirk.  "You see, Remus, he needs a spy on this side, much like Sev is our spy on that side.  That, and . . ."

"And what?" Lupin asked, taking a few steps toward her.

Amy sighed.  "Well, Dumbledore knows this now, anyway.  Voldemort would love nothing more than to give me the perfect opportunity to kill Harry.  That's half the reason for the Occlumency: if he wakes up and doesn't remember a thing . . ." She trailed off, her meaning obvious.

For a long time, no one said anything more.

* * * * *

When school started, there was quite a buzz around school concerning Harry's absence.  Draco, of course, could not help but be heard across the Great Hall: "Probably did us a favor and walked into the Vanishing Cabinet; he'll be showing up thirty years from now in the arctic!"

"Where [i]is[/i] Harry?" Seamus wanted to know, digging into a mountain of mashed potatoes.

"Sick," Ron said shortly, knowing the excuse they had rehearsed but also realizing his ears turned red when he lied.

"Sick?" Dean echoed.  "You're joking, right?  There's nothing Madame Amy can't cure."

"Honestly," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at her half-eaten pork chops.  "She's only human."

"You mean you didn't hear?" Neville asked, eyes wide.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.  "Hear what?" she asked warily.

"It was all over the [i]Prophet[/i] just before New Year's," Dean said, reaching for a platter of carrots.

"[i]What[/i] was all over the [i]Prophet[/i]?"

Seamus shrugged.  "You know how she used to be at Dursmtrang?"

"Yes . . ."

"Well, her replacement – what's his name?"

"Andy," Lavender supplied, having tuned into the conversation.  "You're talking about the article, right?  The one with the picture of him?"

"The very [i]large[/i] picture of him," Parvati added, folding her hands over her heart and sighing, batting her eyes.

Seamus blinked.  "Ye – yes, that one."

Neville, completely oblivious, took up the story.  "He was cleaning out her desk – she must not've had time, or forgotten them, or something – and he found there was a false bottom in one drawer."

"So there's a false bottom, big deal," Ron muttered.  

Hermione shushed him.  "And what did they find?"

"Stacks of parchment," Dean said, holding his hands at an impossible distance for an unnoticeable false drawer to conceal.  "Rolls of it, covered in small writing."

"Research," Seamus clarified, finally focusing back on the pair.  "Research on practically every little-researched ailment there is."

"She's a genius," Neville said reverently, looking up to the staff table.

Ron followed his gaze.  Amy had her forehead in one hand, flipping through a fork with the other, her food forgotten on her place.  As they watched, Snape elbowed her slightly, causing her to blink and look up as he indicated her dinner, obviously telling her to eat.  Grabbing her fork, she shoved one bite in her mouth, still chewing it as she picked up the book and exited out a side door.  Looking a bit resigned, Snape threw down his napkin and followed her.

"It's the stress," Dean said knowingly.  "Now that everyone realizes she's a genius, she'll be expected to keep this up."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, turning to Ron with a look that said, "We need to talk" before returning to her meal.

* * * * *

Hermione grabbed Ron's wrist and practically dragged him across the Great Hall.  "Excuse me, Professor!" she called.

Professor Tobias turned.  "Miss Granger; Mr. Weasley."

"We'd like your permission to look at books in the Restricted Section," she said, brushing her hair off her face and stepping on Ron's foot to keep him from saying, "We do?"

The Dark Arts professor raised an eyebrow.  "Madame Pince knows which books all my students need."

"Well, see, it's not for class," she said, following him out a side door and beckoning Ron to follow.  "It has to do with Harry."

Professor Tobias stopped short and they almost ran into him.  Slowly he turned around.  "Madame Amy is seeing to his illness."

Hermione sighed.  "Professor, we know.  Ron was kind of there and heard the whole thing."

"I see."  His light blue eyes traveled over to Ron.  "And so you know."

"Well, that's kind of the problem."  Hermione shrugged.  "We don't really know.  Maybe if we had your permission to take out some books on Occlumency – not to learn it, mind, just to see if there's anything –"

"Anything you can do to help?" he finished.

"Actually . . . yes, that's exactly what I was thinking."

The professor sighed.  "Hermione, I know you're the brightest in your class, but Amy's a trained Healer.  They want her to head St. Mungo's, actually, though she politely declined . . . don't really understand it myself, but Severus is here, after all . . ." He trailed off.  "Of course, you're not supposed to know that."

Hermione waved that away.  "Can we at least have your permission to look?  You know Madame Pince won't let us in without your signature."

Professor Tobias ran a hand through his hair.  "You're not going to give up, are you?" he asked, resigned.

"No."  She smiled.  "I'm not going to give up."

"I see . . ." He rubbed his chin.  "Come to my office tomorrow afternoon.  I'll have the names of a few books for you.  Just – just don't tell Amy I'm letting a couple sixth-years get in on her work."

"Promise," Hermione said with a grin.  "Thank you, professor."

He shrugged.  "I'm not sure if you should be welcome, but . . . run along."

Ron had to scramble to catch up to Hermione.  "The restricted section?  And what exactly do you think we're going to find there?"

"More information on Occlumency, naturally," she snapped.  "And maybe we'll see exactly what might have gone wrong.  That would be rather useful, don't you think?"

Ron only groaned.  They weren't even back at classes and already he felt like he was being overloaded with homework.

* * * * *

A noise startled Amy awake.  Sitting up, she stared unseeingly across the moonlit room to the half-open door that led to the stairs.  Beside her, Professor Lupin mumbled something in his sleep and turned over, taking more than his fair share of the blanket with him.  For once, she let him, sliding her feet into her slippers and slipping on her dressing gown.  Taking her wand from the bedside table she quietly left the room, pausing only to perform the spell that made the door look like just a regular part of the wall.  Granted, it would not take a trained wizard too long to find it, but anyone in a hurry wouldn't have time to stop and investigate.

Her breath went out of her in an exasperated sigh when she cracked open the door to the infirmary far enough to get a glance inside.  "Lucius, it's just going to be worse if you keep coming back," she pleaded in a whisper, quickly shutting the door behind her.

"Amy."  He was across the room in three strides, taking her hands in his and searching her face.  "It might get worse, but it [i]will[/i] get better."

She frowned.  "What?"

Malfoy shrugged.  "He thinks he may have been too hard on you.  In three days Narcissa is going to be found dead in our mansion.  Suicide, the poor thing; just wasted away, pining for me."  His smile was fierce.  "And then, I believe, before the school year is over, your dear Potions master will be found cheating on you.  With one of the students, no less."

She blinked, trying to wake up and absorb everything.  "Can he arrange that?  No holes, complete alibis . . ."

Lucius' smile grew wider as he slipped an arm around her waist.  "He can do all that and more.  For, you see, my name will soon be cleared.  I, a grieving widower, will be there for you, a woman reeling with the fact that her husband never felt the need to remain true to her.  We, of course," he continued, touching his forehead to hers, "will find solace in each other's arms.  Next year you won't be back to Hogwarts; St. Mungo's will be in need of your assistance."

Amy tried not to frown, although it was a rather tame plan, considering the man devising it; only one dead?  "And Severus, of course, will be my excuse for leaving Hogwarts."

He nodded.  "And Snape will be forced to leave as well.  Hogwarts, I'm afraid, will have to scramble for staff: Potions professor, Healer . . . Dark Arts professor . . ."

[i]Two deaths.[/i]  "And you came here to tell me all this."

Sighing, Mr. Malfoy pulled back, leaning against the wall behind her and looking her in the eye.  "Sadly, no.  I was sent here to give you this."  He held up a letter, sealed with an elaborate design pressed into the wax.  "It's almost time."

"Time?"  She reached for the envelope, though he pulled it away.

"Time," he repeated, leaning in closer.  "Time for the world to see what side you really serve."

Amy raised a single eyebrow, snatching the envelope from his hand and slipping it into her pocket.  "And is this something you've been told straight out?"

His head shook slightly.  "But I can tell."

"You can tell."  She crossed her arms, giving him an appraising look.  "The Dark Lord wants to make me head of St. Mungo's next year; you think he'll manage that by getting me out now?"

Lucius drew back, giving her a shrewd look.  "I think he'll manage it any way he can."

She pondered this a moment before nodding.  "I suppose you're right."

Taking her chin in his hand, he raised her head so she would meet his eyes.  "I usually am," he said quietly, kissing her in a way he would have described as "sweetly," though it was doubtful he had ever done anything sweetly in his life.  "Sleep well, my love."

Her lips twitched into what might have been a smile had it paused to linger.  "Sleep well, Lucius."

With another smile, he swirled his cloak around him.  A moment later a spider scuttled away.

* * * * *

Stifling a yawn, Amy climbed back into bed, leaning against the headboard as she stared to open the letter.  "[i]Lumos[/i]," she whispered, aiming the beam of light at the paper so as not to wake Remus.  After reading it twice she fought the urge to crumple it up into a ball and throw it across the room, swearing harshly under her breath.

"Something wrong?" Remus asked sleepily, turning over.  "'s that?"

"A good excuse to shoot the messenger," she said, tossing it onto the bedside table and hugging her pillow to her chest, glaring moodily into the darkness.

Remus moaned.  "Don't tell me: absence makes the heart grow fonder."

She smirked.  "See, that wasn't so hard to memorize, was it?"

"Huh."  He caught her hand, interlacing their fingers.  "Well, Mrs. Lupin: what's bothering you tonight?"

"A lot," she admitted petulantly, releasing her pillow in favor if her husband, snuggling in his embrace.

"You have to start somewhere," he pointed out, running his fingers through her hair.

"All right, let's start here: my godfather wants to see me this weekend."

There was a moment of stunned silence as he tried to collect himself.  "Your – your godfather?"

Amy nodded.  "Apparently there are a few things he . . . wants to discuss."

His arms tightened around her.  "We'll talk to Albus and Severus in the morning.  There's nothing we can do about it now."

"Mmm."  She sighed.  "Just when you think things couldn't get any worse . . ."

"Your husband thinks he's being comforting when he's not?"

That got a laugh out of her, though he continued to hold her close until they both fell asleep.

* * * * *

The room was lit only by the glow of a fire as the wind whistled fiercely outside.  Wormtail had backed out, mouth open in awe of the fact that his master's goddaughter was quite possibly the most striking figure he had ever seen.

"Adele," Voldemort hissed through bloodless lips, actually going through the motions of enfolding her into a hug.  "You look well."  Had he been capable, the red eyes might have gazed upon her with something akin to fondness.

"As do you."  Amy smiled, cutting a confidant figure as she hid behind her Occlumency lessons.  She was dressed all in black, as was he, though hers was a fitted top and pants underneath a loose cloak and his was merely a simple robe.

Voldemort gestured her to take a seat as the tea poured itself.  ""This is about the Potter boy."

"I surmised as much."  Accepting the cup, she took a sip.

He nodded.  "I can't have him wake."

Amy frowned, holding her drink in both hands as if to warm them.  "I mean no disrespect, but if you were not able to kill him when he was a baby, how could I have the power to kill him now?"

His lips actually turned up into a chilling smile.  "That's my girl.  You can't.  But you're a Healer."

She sat back, thinking.  "I can drug him for a while without having any effect on him.  Or . . . I can wait until he looks like he's going to start to come out of it on his own and buy that much more time."

"You stick too closely to the oath you swore."

She raised an eyebrow.  "After spending that long in bed, he'll need to recuperate, and then I think I could influence certain people into staying the summer and trying to cram his missed schoolings into a few weeks.  With all that, he'll be too exhausted to even think of you."

"But still he'll be at Hogwarts."

"Right . . ." Setting her cup down, Amy rubbed her hands over her face.  "You know, since we've already concluded I'm not going to come up with it on my own, you might just tell me your plan."  She grinned slightly, like at a favorite uncle.

Voldemort stood and began to pace.  "You see, I am myself conflicted.  To keep him there, as you suggested, would give me free reign of the outside world, but wouldn't allow me to kill him.  Conversely, we cannot let him come to me in his weakened state if your reputation is to remain untarnished for the long term."

Amy nodded.  "The position at St. Mungo's.  Yes, Lucius mentioned it."

He nodded, still pacing.  "Yes, and it will do him well to have a wife with as good a standing as they think you have."

She took it all in stride.  "But you're still not telling me what I should do with the boy."

Stopping, he turned to face her, fixing her with his hypnotic gaze.  "You understand my predicament."

"Yes.  And will speak of it to no one, of course.  They wouldn't understand."

"They would see it as weakness," he agreed.  "I always said you were the brightest of the lot."

"Ah, but never when I was in the room."  Amy stood, as well.  "He will sleep until I hear from you again."

"Very good."  He caught her hands, pressing her fingers to his lips.  "And do not lose hope; this charade will end soon enough."

Her smiled shifted slightly.  "Yes.  It will."

* * * * *

"Don't touch me."  Those were the first words out of Amy's mouth when she got into the room and Remus started to stand up.

"Don't touch you?" he asked, the [i]Prophet[/i] clutched awkwardly in one hand.

"Not until I've burned this" – her cloak was flung over the top of the wardrobe door – "and everything else I'm wearing and have sprayed myself with disinfectant."

Her husband raised an eyebrow.  "It went . . ."

"Rather well.  Ick."  The fitted shirt followed.

"You look rather nice in that, if I'm allowed to say such a thing," he said.

She leaned around the door to give him a Look.  "Get me one in a color other than black and I might actually want to wear it."

"So noted."

"Honestly, it didn't go too poorly," she admitted, emerging barefooted in a pair of worn jeans and a sleeveless white top, collecting her outfit with distain.  "He doesn't think I'd be able to kill Harry even if I tried."

"He can't, not using his wand, can he?" Remus asked, slipping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

"Probably not," she agreed, leaning back into him and closing her eyes.  "I'm supposed to keep him asleep until I'm told otherwise."

"Can you do that safely?"

"Up until a point.  So we have a while to think of what I'm going to do then."  Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek she went to put her clothes in the hamper, rubbing her bare arms as she went back to the wardrobe and pulled out a worn black men's sweater.

Her husband raised his eyebrows.  "That would be the property of a certain Professor Snape, would it not?"

She gave him a look as she put her arms through the sleeve and zipped it up.  "Wives always steal their husband's shirts, you know."

"You're too meticulous with these details," he halfway grumbled, taking her in his arms and kissing her forehead.

"Remus Lupin, you were more worried than you let on," she accused good-naturedly, snuggling in his embrace.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Mmm-hmm."  She pulled back, a twinkle in her eye.  "Besides, Sev doesn't like it much, either."

"Huh?  I didn't follow that last jump . . ."

"Sev doesn't like me wearing his shirts; I had to fight for this one, and it's not like he ever wears it, anyway."  Amy rolled her eyes as if to add and exasperated "Men!" to the end of that sentence.

Remus raised an eyebrow.  "And why should he not like you wearing sweaters he never does?"

In response Amy raised her sleeve to his face.  "Smell."

Giving her a look as if he were only humoring her because he knew she was crazy, he sniffed.  "I don't smell anything."

"Probably not."  Smelling it herself, Amy grinned.  "I sprayed it with your cologne.  And Sev hates it when his sweaters come back smelling like you."

For a moment it looked as though she had him speechless.

"I guess you could say I'm just meticulous with my details," Amy said, hooking her arms around his neck.

Laughing, he kissed her again.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Ron shook his head.  "Hermione, you're just making this harder on yourself."

She glared at him over the top of the large book she was holding up, almost as a shield.  "At least I get my homework done in a timely manner, Ronald Weasley."

"Yeah, you rush through it and then go plowing in like you want to earn yourself some medical degree," he agreed.  "You can't tell me your grades haven't dropped these past few weeks."

"So it's not over one hundred percent; I'm still averaging an O," she shot back, the book rising up again.

He sighed, reaching for her hand and forcing her to lower it again.  "'Mione, you're running yourself ragged.  I think you really should see Amy yourself."

"I've just not been sleeping well," she argued, but it was true: she was looking slightly ill.  Paler than usual, it only served to bring out the bags under her eyes, which were slightly red.  "I'm worried about Harry."

"Amy's doing all she can," he said consolingly.  "'Sides, Harry's not going to like it if he wakes up and you're too exhausted to even tutor him."

She tried a smile, but it seemed she was too tired to manage one.  "It's not just this, Ron.  I'm seriously ill."

"What?"  The background noise in the common room seemed to fade away as he focused on her.  "Hermione, what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath.  "Remember when we went after . . . after Sirius in the Ministry, and we dueled with the Death Eaters?"

He first nodded, then shook his head.  "Madame Pompfry took care of that, remember?  You had to take something practically every twenty minutes."

"She tried," Hermione said.  "But . . . well, two of the curses really aren't meant to go together, and . . ." She trailed off.

Ron took a deep breath, realizing he had grabbed her hand.  "How serious is seriously ill?"

"It's just – well, I get more tired than usual, and . . . well, some potion ingredients can set off bad reactions if I come in contact with them, so that's why Snape's been a bit . . . strange . . . sometimes."

"'Mione, why didn't you tell us before?"

"Because Harry would feel guilty!" she exploded.  "You know he would."

"He didn't make us go," Ron argued.

"Since when's Harry been logical?" Hermione asked, smiling, though her eyes were slightly teary.  "And you know he'd think it was worse . . ."

"Worse than being exhausted and having Snape hover over you?" he asked wryly, trying to lighten the mood.

Hermione laughed.  "Yes, I see your point . . ."

Ron smiled.  "Isn't there something Amy can give you?" he prodded.

She rolled her eyes, shoving the book aside and getting up out of the chair.  "Fine, fine: I'll ask.  Just don't nag, or I'll have to curse you."

He threw a mock salute and watched her leave through the portrait hole.

* * * * *

Amy did not look surprised when Hermione entered; rather, she looked stern.  "How often do I have to tell you to take it easy?" she said, bending once more over Harry to check his pulse and smooth his sheets.  "You're not going to help him by hurting yourself."

"And I'm certainly not going to help him if I don't try," she returned, brushing her hair off her face.  "I can't just sit there and do nothing!"

Amy looked up, eyes dark and sad.  "Meaning I am?"

"And what if I did mean it that way?"  Hermione crossed her arms.  "You couldn't do anything about it.  Even if I accused you of –"

"Even if you accused me of what?" Amy asked softly in the silence.  When Hermione did not answer, the Healer turned, following her gaze to find Snape framed in the doorway of her private office.  "I gave you more credit than that, Hermione."

"That doesn't mean people wouldn't believe me."

Amy shrugged, gathering up empty vials and tidying Harry's bedside table.  "Is that the way you mean to fight, then?  By trying to undermine me?  I can tell you here and now that no Healer would be able to wake him, though the others would not be nearly so cautious as I am now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"  She took two quick steps forward, breathing hard.  "You know something, don't you?  Something you're not telling us."

"I know a lot of things I'm not telling you," Amy agreed, opening a cupboard and running her finger along the labels of the potions within.  "Most of them because they would do you more harm than good if you knew them.  It's all right; you can go."  This last was directed to Snape.

He shook his head, looking concerned.  "Something's wrong."

"It's not a reaction," she argued.  "Besides, you said you were watching her.  And that was a week ago; it wouldn't take this long to show itself."

"Not if it were a small enough dose," he argued.  "Look at her; you can't say she looks well to you."

Amy smiled wryly.  "I never said she was.  Hermione, if you would just drink this . . ."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the glass of dull blue the Healer was holding out to her.  "It's poisoned.  You're working for _him, you have been all along!  Traitor!"  Turning, she began to run._

"Classic symptoms, Ames!" Snape grunted as he dove after her, catching her around the knees and causing her to fall.

"Accelerated," she argued tersely, not caring when the glass – hurriedly set on her desk – was knocked over as she hurriedly reached for another vial, quickly drawing some into a syringe.  "Hold her steady."

"Yeah, right," he grunted.  Hermione was struggling, now screaming out things like, "Murderer!  Double-crosser!  Betrayer!"

Tongue poking out from between her lips in concentration, Amy eased the needle into Hermione's arm.  "Can't you just Stun her?" Snape asked, knowing she was trying to find a vein.

She shook her head.  "This potion's too iffy as it is; something like that could damage her immune system irreparably, resulting in –"

"Fine, fine!  Just do it already!"

"Done," Amy breathed, quickly Banishing the empty syringe to a table and steadying Hermione's head as she shuddered, fighting the relaxant as it spread through her muscles.

Snape took a deep breath.  "She reacted a week late."

"It can take as long as seventy-two hours."

"When she only contacted a variant of the trigger, and only barely, if then."

"Which could explain the delay."

"But not the full-blown, accelerated reaction."

Amy frowned, brushing the hair out of Hermione's face.  "No, look – classic symptoms include bruising in the –"

He cleared his throat, indicating that she should speak plain English.

"She should have black eyes, all right?  And a nosebleed, something awful.  That's the first thing I told you to look for.  It should have happened within minutes of contact and it still hasn't happened."

"So, what, you're trying to tell me this isn't a Lembis reaction when they used Tarnis just last week in their advanced Spell Resistance Potion?"

She shook her head.  "It's not."

"Ames –"

"Sev, just listen to me, all right?  Who's the Healer here, me or you?"

"You!  But –"

"Hush!"  Carefully Amy took Hermione in her arms, lifting her smoothly to avoid jostling her head and laying her gently on a bed, adjusting her limp limbs into a more comfortable, natural position.  "I don't like it when people underestimate me, and I'm being underestimated."

He chose to remain silent, simply raising an eyebrow.

"This is a reaction similar enough that at first glance the untrained eye would think it caused by Lembis, or the variant you used.  But it's not.  Whoever did this doesn't know me and thinks I'll miss it."  Her eyes were hard.  "I need to find out who."

"Hey, stop."  He put a hand on her shoulder.  "You need to stay here and look after her.  _I'll get on that right away.  After all" – he tried a smile – "__you happen to be the Healer here."_

Amy took a deep breath and nodded, gaze spanning the Hospital Wing.  "They're striking at children now, Severus.  We need to stop them.  Now."

Nodding once more, he turned and left.

* * * * *

Looking worried, Remus strode into the hospital wing.  "Severus' with Moody right now," he said, putting a hand on Amy's shoulder as she was bent over Hermione, taking a pulse.  "What's going on?"

"I don't know," she said, scribbling something on a sheet of parchment.  "Her adrenaline level's normal, which means this was not a Lembis-induced –"

"English, sweetie," he said wearily, kissing her cheek before collapsing into a chair.

"Meh."  She made a face.  "Okay, so that one spell she was hit with last spring – the one by the mute Death Eater, apparently?"

"I'm following."

Amy shrugged.  "It caused an imbalance in her – well, it caused an imbalance, weakening her immune system and making her more susceptible to diseases." She paused, waiting to see if she'd used too much official jargon.  "It's also affected her metabolism, making her tire out more easily, though I've been giving her treatments for that and she's been doing fine, up until right after Christmas when she started running herself ragged."

"Okay.  So what happened today?"

"The Lembis plant, when she comes in contact with it, would give her a severe reaction.  It affects the nervous system, making the patient start to hallucinate and become very unreasonable, also causing the muscles to seize up.  That's why she needed a dose of relaxant, to keep her safe."

Remus nodded.  "So she came into contact with Lembis.  Severus couldn't keep an eye on her all the time, honey; mistakes happen."

"This reaction also acts as a blood thinner," Amy continued as though he hadn't spoken.  "One of the first symptoms is a nosebleed and two blossoming black eyes.  That didn't happen, Remus.  I've checked; she's normal."

"Except her muscles seized up and she seemed to go crazy," he agreed.

She shook her head.  "It's not overly difficult to make a potion that will do that to someone, and anyone can act crazy for long enough to spur a trained Healer into action.  This may have been done by an ignorant mind, but not an untrained one."

He raised an eyebrow.  "Care to explain that last little comment?"

"They're expecting me to diagnose it right away as a Lembis reaction, which is where they fail: whoever did this doesn't know me well enough to realize I'll have read up on it.  It's rare, so they usually would be able to get away with it." She shrugged.  "I've not heard a thing about it from my godfather.  And I can tell this isn't his work: he'd be overly meticulous, perhaps even stooping to buy a Skiving Snackbox for the Weasleys' Blood Blisters, just to make sure everything's perfect."

"Or maybe it is his idea," Remus mused.  "Maybe he wasn't planning on enacting it so soon, or maybe this is just the beginning."

"For what point and purpose?  To fill every bed in here with some strange case that no one else would understand?  And why Hermione?  What interest does he have in her, a Muggle-born?  He's not so rash as to kill her straight out and not so random as to attack her like this with no reason."

"Well, with every bed full, it wouldn't be a surprise that Harry's not improving . . ."

"No one could help him improve anyway!" she cried, throwing up her arms in frustration.  "I don't need an excuse, he knows it, and he'd tell me of any plan involving me, anyway!"

Her husband looked thoughtful.  "Maybe this one doesn't involve you."

"_What?_"

"No, hear me out: maybe he wants to keep you out of this, to keep you legit.  He's doing . . .  something . . . that he doesn't want you caught up in, so you'll still be in good stead for a St. Mungo's job next year."

Amy rolled her eyes.  "Listen, Remus, the only reason he'd want to keep me out of this was if . . . if . . ." She swore.

"If what?" he asked quietly.

She met his eyes.  "If he's trying to kill Harry."

It took a moment for that to register.  "He can't.  They can't duel; the possibility of their wands connecting is just too great."

"But has anyone proved that he's the only one who can hurt Harry?" she asked quietly.

"But the Prophecy . . ."

She shook her head.  "It only says they can't both survive.  It doesn't say they're immortal unless killed by the other.  My godfather was reaching for immortality, remember?  There has to be a reason for that."

Remus stood quickly, almost knocking over his chair.  "You stay here.  I'm going to get Dumbledore, Severus, Moody . . . anyone in the Order I can."  He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and left.

* * * * *

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, looking most severe.  "We can't draw the conclusion that this is a plot to take Mr. Potter's life."

Amy's eyes narrowed.  "Just the same, Minerva, I would like it more if you'd be able to tell me that no one wants to kill the boy in the next room, and we both know you can't."

"You-Know-Who wants him dead, certainly," she agreed, pushing her spectacles up on her nose, "but he'd know better than to try something within the walls of Hogwarts, right under Dumbledore's nose."

"That's what's bothering me," the younger woman said quietly, and her husband took her hand.

"We just think it's something worth noticing," Remus said calmly, looking over the assembled group.  Hagrid was taking up the sofa, Dumbledore and Moody had the armchairs, Snape was out in the hospital wing under the Auror's Invisibility Cloak, and he was leaning against Amy's desk while she was sitting on it, looking weary.

"O' 'course it's worth noticin'," Hagrid agreed, nodding and running a hand over his unruly beard.  "'s actually somethin' happenin' that shouldn' be."

Moody shook his head, electric blue eyeball whirling around, pausing at the back of his head to check on Snape before circling up to the ceiling and back around.  "It's been in the _Prophet_ that Madame Amy's no regular Healer.  Would they expect her to fall for this?"

McGonagall checked the clock.  "If you'll excuse me, tonight's my night on duty after hours.  If you want my personal opinion, here it is: this is all a ruse to take our attention off the real important things that are going to be happening, and possibly are happening, right now.  You know the trick, Remus; I've seen it from you and the other three often enough."  Nodding to the headmaster she left her post in the corner and exited the room.

"You gotta admit, she has a point," Hagrid said grudgingly.

"But if they only want us to think it's a ruse?" Amy persisted.

Dumbledore looked pensive.  "Amy, my dear: could it be possible that you're overanalyzing this?"

She laughed dryly.  "You know what Sev tells me all the time?  'You know that part of your mind that tells you you're overanalyzing things?  You don't have one.'  But I'm still not willing to drop this."

"Just because Minerva left doesn't mean she has," he pointed out gently.

"I know," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose to try to ward off a headache.  "I'm just not used to having to use so much guesswork."

Remus raised an eyebrow.  "Says the woman who used to rant in her letters that she was never going to get her vampire-friendly products right because she had no clue what she was going."

Amy gave him a Look.  "But that didn't mean someone was going to die if I got that wrong.  I had more than one chance."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, thoughtfully.  "All right: I'll place a spell on the room.  It will allow you and Remus to enter, though, if anyone else does through any entrance, an alarm will alert us to it straight away, unheard by anyone but us, so that we might take the intruder by surprise.  With as little information as we have, that seems like the best we can do."

After a moment, Amy nodded.  "All right."

"D'you wan' me to spend the night close by?" Hagrid asked, looking at Amy.  "I coul' kip on the floor."

She smiled at him gratefully.  "If you're willing, Hagrid, I would love to accept your offer."

Dumbledore stood, causing them to all follow suit.  "Get some sleep," he advised Amy.  "Take one of your own potions if you have to; we'll want you rested, come morning."

Amy nodded, leaning into her husband as he put his arm around her.  "Good night."

The headmaster bade them sleep well before he and Moody went into the wing itself, informing Snape of the plan.  The Potions professor frowned slightly, but agreed to it, returning the Cloak before he, too, left.  Moody went on his way before Dumbledore performed the complex charm, one that would detect any living creature entering through even a hairline crack before turning in himself.

The moon shone through the windows in the Hospital Wing, falling across the beds of Harry and Hermione, both caught in an unnatural sleep.

* * * * *

Although Harry would not remember it, his waking was preceded by a prick in his arm from a needle and a smooth injection by experienced hands.  The syringe was tossed carelessly to the floor.  There was not long to wait.

Harry moaned, raising a hand to his aching head.  It felt as though his brain had been replaced with cotton and his limbs were heavy, telling him that it had been a long while since he had used them.  A second moan and something cool and smooth pressed to his lips.  "Drink this," a familiar voice whispered, tilting the cup.

He swallowed greedily, almost as quickly as she could pour.  Gradually the room seemed to stop swimming and he sat up, reaching for his glasses and looking around.  "What – what happened?"

She shrugged, taking a seat on the bed next to him.  "They tried Occlumency on you when you were sleeping.  It's been ages; we weren't really sure you'd ever wake."

Squinting, he looked around the darkened room.  "Hogwarts . . ."

A nod.  "Yes, Harry.  You're back here.  It's supposed to be safer."

The tone of her voice made him focus on her face.  "Supposed to be?"

Another nod.  "But there's a place even safer for you than this.  We need to leave now."

He choked back a laugh. "Me, leave with you?  The two of us alone?  Are you kidding?  Hey, look, if I need to be someplace safe –"

"They won't be expecting this," she cut in smoothly, raising and eyebrow.  "You know they won't."

Harry paused a moment.  "So I'm supposed to leave with you, and risk you along with me."

She shrugged.  "I'm willing."

He felt another snort of laughter rising.  "And if I'm not?"

"You won't be safe if you stay here."

"So I'm supposed to gamble you by leaving?"

Sighing, she brushed the hair out of her face.  "Better me than you.  We need you, Harry.  You know that."

Still he balked.  "So I'm supposed to, what, just walk out of here in my pajamas?"

Wordlessly she pointed to where his trunk was at the foot of his bed.

He took a deep breath.  "So I can get dressed.  Then what?"

"We have your Firebolt."

Harry raised an eyebrow.  "You and me on my Firebolt, and no one's supposed to notice?"  Then he smacked himself in the forehead.  "Right, my Invisibility Cloak."

She tried to mask her flash of surprise.  "Right.  Of – of course.  Your Invisibility Cloak.  We'll manage with that somehow."

"Fine," he sighed, throwing back the covers.  "Would you mind pulling those curtains while I get dressed?"

"Of course not."

Five minutes later, Cloak tucked closely around them, they shot out of the window on his broom, passing the sleeping castle and veering off into the distance.

* * * * *

Professor Lupin gave his wife an appraising look.  "You really need to sleep, Ames."

She laughed dryly.  "I'm worried."

"I know."  He sat next to her on the bed, sliding an arm around her shoulders and kissing her forehead.  "But you shouldn't be.  What can they do to Harry if they can't get in?"

"Mmm."  She closed her eyes.  "You've been too busy with the Order these past few days . . ."

"Have I?"  Though he knew that it had been taking up a lot of his time.

She pulled back to look at him.  "Harry almost woke up two days ago."

Remus blinked.  Then, as that didn't seem to help, he blinked again.  "Harry woke up."

"Almost," his wife corrected.  "Remember, he's safe, as long as he's asleep."  She gave him a wry smile to show just how much faith she put into those words.

He took a deep breath.  "That changes things.  Why didn't you tell me?"  Yet he knew her answer.

"What could you have done?  Worry?  How much would that have helped either of us?"

"Just the same . . ." He stood.

Amy sat fully up.  "Where are you going?"

"There's a window in your door; I'm going to check on them."

* * * * *

Harry dismounted from his broom, sneakers crunching through the layer of ice atop the snow.  He looked around, breath smoking the moonlit air.  She had directed him to land atop a hill.  Before them sprawled a large house that might have once been an imposing Victorian but was now desperately in need of repairs.  The paint had faded and peeled, the windows were either boarded over or cracked, and the garden was overgrown with weeds.  There was a field off to their right, with something lumpy buried under the snow, and for some reason hot lead slid into his stomach when he looked that way.  Quickly he turned back to the person who had brought him here.  "We're going in there?"

She nodded, cupping her hands and blowing in them to warm them.  It was the first time he noticed she wasn't wearing so much as a cloak.  "That's where they're waiting for us.  We might not stay there; we need to keep moving, in case . . ." Glancing over her shoulder, she trailed off.

Harry nodded, feeling the weight of his Firebolt in his hand – his [i]left[/i] hand; his wand was in his right.  "You're sure about this?"

The look she gave him told him he should have known better than to question her.  Meekly he ducked his head.  "Sorry, 'Mione."

"It's fine, just – come on, before we freeze!"  Grabbing his arm, Hermione led him down the hill.

* * * * *

Amy was on his heels as Remus looked through the window and swore.  "Harry's gone," he said, angrily pushing the door opening, sending a signal to the Order.

She swore as well, adding to what he had said as she pushed him aside and went to the bed that was still occupied, putting a hand on her girl's forehead and seeming to have used up all the words she wanted to say, wheeling around to her cupboard.  Her husband backed out of her way, not saying a word as Amy drew a syringe and injected Hermione with a second shot in less than six hours.  Her foot kicked something on the floor, which rolled away.  Tossing the now-empty syringe aside, Amy got down on her knees.  "[i]Lumos,[/i]" she whispered, shining the thin beam of light under the beds and tables.

"What is it?" he husband asked quietly, watching her intently.

Amy emerged holding two used syringes, one with the needle broken off partway.  Her eyes spoke the anger she felt words could not convey.

* * * * *

No one spoke as Snape and Amy set to work.  She had rattled off a list of tests for him to perform on one needle, taking the other – the unbroken one – and simply dripping two drops of a blue solution onto it.  The potion fizzled pink and sent of small silver sparks.  "Harry's awake," she said numbly, staring at the results.  "Awake, and he managed to get out of here somehow."

"His trunk's here," Moody observed, magical eye whizzing.  "His pajamas were tossed on top . . . clothes, missing."

"And his broom," Lupin added, going through the contents.  "And – and James' cloak."

"Someone musta been in here," Hagrid said slowly, looking angry with himself for having let this happen.  "No one coulda gotten in, not with the spell."

"Or so I would like to think, Hagrid," Dumbledore said heavily.  "Alistair, you looked around before we left?"

The Auror nodded.  "But if you messed up the spell, I sure as anything could have missed something."

"A spider?" Amy suggested dully.  "But it was a large one; you would have seen him."

"Him?"

"Lucius Malfoy."  Amy ran a hand over her face, turning to look at Snape, who was still working to figure out what had been injected into Hermione's veins.  Sighing, she pulled out her wand and went over to Hermione, running it up and down the length of her body, searching for the rest of the needle.

"Is it possible it broke off with the fall to the floor?" Dumbledore suggested.

"Possible."  Amy's lips barely moved, so great was her concentration.  "But at this point, Albus, I'm not sure I'd even trust a certainty unless I see it for myself."

Snape sighed.  "It's not reacting to anything, Ames.  Those are the most common tests . . ."

She nodded once, moving to his side.  "You need to see if you can find out where they took him.  Take Remus; I'll be fine here."  As if to stop any more of his protests, she took the potions out of his hands.

"I can't leave, not when the students are here," Dumbledore said softly, apologetically.  They understood: all of them verses Harry would force him to choose all of them.

"Yeh can send for us when yeh find where he is, Severus," Hagrid said, nodding to a thus-so-far silent McGonagall.

"And I'll be coming with you, of course," Moody said, waving for the two men to proceed him out of the hospital wing.  "The sooner we get started . . ."

Amy didn't look up as the rest of them left, though McGonagall paused a moment as though to say something – perhaps to apologize – but she left before opening her mouth.  Mouth set in a firm line, Amy went back to the needle.


End file.
